TGS 1: Nightfall
by byronthedeadpoet
Summary: I heard about Life and Death, and was really upset with Meyer, both for not finishing Midnight Sun and for doing such a nearly identical treatment of the original material. Here is my interpretation of a cross gender Twilight. The Midnight Sun like sections have been moved to a separate story for simplicity sake. If you all like it, I might continue and do the rest of the series.
1. Chapter 1: Forks

The plane touched down on wet asphalt, jarring and just about the truest omen of what was to come as I could ask for. I waited as we taxied in, my foot tapping as I turned on my phone. The thing was so old, it didn't have an airplane mode. I would have upgraded it if I ever had a reason to, but it wasn't exactly as though I got many calls on it and I wasn't up for paying for a data plan. There were only four numbers in my contacts list that I used with a degree of regularity; a local emergency care near my house... my former home, in Phoenix, my dad Ray's number, Felicia's number, and Carrie's number, my mother.

My mind looped back over that last goodbye before I got on the plane.

"Are you sure?" Dad asked, his concern grating.

"Yes, Dad," I said, sure that I sounded annoyed. "I'm sure."

"You can come home any time you want," he went on. "Felicia and I would love to have you back."

"I know, Dad," I said, my voice going softer. "I know. If I get tired of the cold, I'll be calling you five times a day."

"Call me anyway," he said. "It won't be the same without you."

"Thanks, Dad," I said. "I will."

I wouldn't call. Or at least I wouldn't call to come home. I was here, and as much as I hated it, I wasn't going anywhere.

I grabbed my backpack, my only bag, stuffed with a few choice books and two weeks worth of clothes, just enough to get by between laundry loads. I could always get more second-hand clothes. I began to deplane, managing to clip my shoulder on the way out the door. Glad no one I knew saw that. The "airport" is so meager, I almost get lost trying to figure out which of the small buildings I am supposed to walk to. I finally walked out front into the tiny excuse for a parking lot, and sure enough, Carrie is pulled up in the cruiser.

"Hop in," she said, popping open the door without getting out. "Is that everything?"

"Yeah," I said, pushing my bag between my knees and settling in for the long ride. I was glad Carrie didn't make much over me like other moms might. I wouldn't have handled it well at the moment.

"So, "she finally asked after we had gotten out of town and hit the highway, "did you get your license?"

"Yes," I pulled the word out of myself. Back in Phoenix, there wasn't a needed. I could get anywhere I needed on foot or with public transportation. That wasn't an option anymore. Forks was too small for that, and walking wasn't really an option anymore either. I looked out at the constant drizzle, trying to convince myself once again that I would get used to it.

"Well," Carrie said, "that's good. Unfortunately, you can't drive the cruiser."

I snorted a chuckle, "I wouldn't even if that was an option."

"Good," she said shortly. "Fortunately, I found a truck for you."

I thought about my meager funds, stashed in one of my socks in my bag. I had taken it out of my college savings account, the one I emptied all my summer job money into. Ray never let me work during the school year. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough for a used car, or maybe a used truck.

"How much?" I asked, a bit wary.

"How much what?" she asked back.

"How much does it cost?" I asked again.

"It didn't cost that much," she said, and I look over.

"Didn't?" I asked, catching on.

"Yeah," she said slowly. "I bought for you already."

I didn't say anything for a moment, then said, "Oh."

"Is that alright?" she asked and I think about it.

"It's okay," I finally said. "You didn't have to, but I guess I don't really mind. But if I change my mind, I'm paying you back."

"Okay," she said. "It belonged to an old family friend. Do you remember the Blacks?"

I shook my head.

"They kept it in great shape," she said. "I doubt you will need to do any maintenance on it or anything. It was just my way of saying... welcome back."

We spent the rest of the drive in relative silence, watching the road or the rain and the road. Finally, we made it to the outskirts of my sometime hometown of Forks, Washington.

It was the same as ever. I don't think any of the businesses have changed, other than possibly the owners, and most were probably still owned by the same families. I hadn't lived here for nearly ten years, not since I finally figured out that I had a choice. My parents let me move in with Dad, who I missed, would miss desperately. Now, I was back, and I'd just have to make the best of it.

I spotted the truck as soon as we rounded the corner to my mother's house. It took a moment to sink in that it was THE truck. Even from here, I could tell that it was going to be great. It was fairly rife with character, probably older than my mother herself, the brilliant sort of old vehicle that spoke of drive-ins and picnics and the country. I would have loved having this truck back in Phoenix, despite the fact that I doubted it had air conditioning, and I began to think that my time here might not be a completely unmitigated disaster.

Mom took me inside. The house was much like the town, unchanged. The addition of my school photos was the only alteration I could pick out as we head upstairs to one of the only two rooms in the place. My room, as it had been before, was laid out the same as it had been. Bed placement, the orientation of the desk, dresser on the same wall, everything. They had all been replaced with larger counterparts since I was last here, and everything was neat and clean, if undusted.

"If you need anything else," said mom from the door, "or want something different, just come talk to me. We can always talk. If you want."

"Okay," I said.

She nodded, "Okay."

She turned and walked downstairs. I closed the door.

I sighed heavily, falling back on the bed and throwing my arm over my eyes. I didn't want to wallow the rest of the night, but I needed a release and just let the misery was over me a few minutes. But that's all I gave it. I went to the bathroom and washed my face, then I unpacked, the rain and wind a constant companion. I doubted I would ever feel alone here ever again.

When I finally went downstairs for dinner, I found Carrie in the kitchen, preparing a meal for us. I explained that I was used to cooking for myself, and after some back and forth, and actually tasting that her food wasn't too bad, we agreed to no agreement on meals. Whoever felt like cooking would cook and we would just play it by ear. Finally, after a dinner and a shower, I went to bed early, doing my damnedest to kill time just to get tomorrow over with.

When I awoke the next morning after a restless night, it was still raining, and in my half-asleep state, and with the only half of my brain that was awake thinking about the wet day ahead of me, I misjudged the length of the landing and stepped into open air and nearly fell down the stairs before I managed to catch myself. Finally, I munched some fruit and headed out to my truck, taking solace in that at least.

I managed to hurry out and hopped in without any more bodily peril and drove across town, which took all of fifteen seconds. The school, like most things in town, was just off the highway. I parked, realizing that I was in fact early. I decided to take the extra time to get my schedule.

The school itself was utterly minuscule, considering I was used to a school with about as many students as people who live in half the town. With a student body this small, there was nowhere for me to hide, no throngs for me to blend with, no masses for me to disappear into. I couldn't deny the strangeness of myself, bookish without being nerdy, enjoying music without owning a single album, fashionably dressed in unfashionable second-hand clothes, jobless, unpopular, uninteresting. Now, I was friendless, new, and exposed. This was a fresh level of hell from which I might never recover.

Finding the office wasn't hard, though even if I had to check every building, I don't think it would have taken me that long. I was about to give my name to the gentleman behind the desk when he said, "Oh, you much be Benjamin Hawkins."

And so it begins.

"Ben," I said, doing my best to smile and take the edge off my correction.

"Glad to have you back, son," he said. "I'm sure you'll enjoy it here."

I managed not to outright frown, but I'm not sure I got enough sarcasm out of my voice when I said, "I'm sure I will."

I could be wrong, but as soon as I confirmed my identity with the office, it was as though everyone suddenly knew who I was. Staring silence surrounded me and hushed whispers followed me as I began working my way through the day. English was to be expected, but when I looked down the syllabus, it was even more so. Not a single book or piece we would be reading was something I hadn't read already. That would make things easier.

As I left English, a girl came up to me and said, "Hi."

"Hi," I said, and after a moment of her not saying anything, I decided that I might as well observe the social niceties. Even if I looked at it practically, I might be burning bridges that I didn't need to be.

"I'm new," I offered and she jumped on it.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm Erica."

I got the impression that she was talking not because she expected to get anything out of it, but because she really had nothing to lose. She seemed that flavor of nerd that is more socially awkward and less into pop culture, the sort that liked school because she was good at it and didn't know herself well enough to know she was good at anything else.

"Do you know where your next class is?" she began. "I could show you..."

I smiled tapping my schedule in my pocket, "No, thank you, though. There isn't exactly a whole lot of school around here."

She laughed and it sounded a little forced, but I didn't have anything to compare it to. I felt sort of bad for her, but given how uncomfortable I was at the moment, I wasn't in any position to be willing to endure addition discomfort be allowing her to feel more welcoming. I noted this, just in case I decided I wanted to make it up to her later.

I managed to get through Government with only a minimum of mutters and stares, but I made it a point to sit in the back and no one seemed willing to opening gawk where I could see them. It wasn't until Trig that I had to endure that special hell that is standing before the class and telling them about myself. I quietly plotted to incite a riot throughout the rest of the class, that wasn't my favorite as it was, until the bell rings.

"Hey," said a guy walking up to me. "You're that new kid, right?"

"Yeah," I said back. "That's me. New Kid."

"I'm Jesse," he said back, running his hand through his hair. "I know what's up. I can totally show you the ropes, if you're game."

The guy seemed like he could be a bit of a tool, but he had some social clout and offered, so I nodded, "Why not?"

"Cool," he said. "It's Benjamin, right?"

"Ben," I corrected, and can tell that I am going to get oh so tired of that. I weigh the merits of a name tag versus the additional attention one would inspire.

"Who do you have next?"

I consult my schedule, "Spanish with Goff."

He laughed, "Only one Spanish teacher, dude. Welcome to Forks. Come on; I'm heading there now."

He tried to subtly interrogate me all the way to our next class, but I can tell he is trying to base my worth on my preference of movies and music. It seemed to bug him that I usually watch movies once unless I have a reason not to, and none of our taste in music really overlapped, but we only covered general topics before we get to class. It passed without too much trouble, and I am dreading navigating the torrential waters of the cafeteria when Jesse piped up, "You seem cool. Come eat lunch with us."


	2. Chapter 2: First Sight

Jesse and I walked into the noisy and taciturn cafeteria, and I followed his lead. We got lunch, discoursing the socioeconomic merits of the comicbook movie. After picking up food, we wind our way to a group of about a five other students, a few of which I am sure I have seen in some of my classes.

"Hello," said one girl, a blonde with a bit excessive makeup and darker blonde roots. "I'm Michelle. If you swear to god to never ever add 'Mouse' to it, we can be friends and you can call me Mickie."

"This is Benjamin," Jesse added before I could speak.

"Ben," I added quickly, sighing inwardly.

Introductions were made quickly, and I caught Taylor, Lauren, and Angelo before they moved on. I spent the rest of lunch being talked over, left out of the loop, but given the chance to observe at length. I was just getting bored of the latest rehashed gossip when I looked up, and that was when I got my first look at them.

For a moment, time seemed to slow down. I was thankful because there was just so much to see. It was a though a slice of some other world had been dropped down into the school, and I was the only one who seemed to notice. It was two boys and three girls, sitting around a single table, and something about their appearance somehow reminded me of Greek statuary. Maybe it was their undeniable beauty, each one seeming to be their own flavor of perfection personified. Maybe it was the casual though obviously high-end clothes. Maybe it was their expressions, bore with just the hint of superiority. Maybe it was the almost graceful way they could appear to be, even in near stillness. It was as though some lesser pantheon of Gods and Goddesses decided to hold court in a high school. I couldn't help be stare.

"Who are they?" I asked to no one in particular as one of the girls stood up and glided out of the room with a grace of a lifelong professional ballerina.

Jesse snorted, indicating each as he spoke, "That's Emily and Edwina Cullen, and Rory and Jasper Hale. The girl who left was Alice Cullen."

Emily was tall for a girl, broad, and was hands down the most athletic person in the room, probably the town, or the state. Rory, next to her, was an utter knockout. I wasn't sure if there was such a thing as a male supermodel, but he fit the bill without breaking a sweat. Jasper was tall and spare, with thin shoulders, honey-colored wavy hair that settled behind his ears, and had a slightly androgynous face. I couldn't really see Edwina from this angle, but her coppery hair fell about her shoulders, and there was something about her posture, lounging in a backward-turned chair that seemed almost feline to me.

"Yeah," I said back, "but who are they?"

"They are the children of a local doctor," he went on. "Her husband and her adopted them or has custody or whatever. I don't really know, because most of them are couples, like they date each other. Isn't that like illegal, even if they aren't related? I don't know."

"What do you mean, most are couples?" I asked.

"Rory and Emily are together," he said, "and so are Alice and Jasper. They're like couples, but they live together and have like the same parents. What's up with that?"

The questions came out of my mouth before I could even consider it, "And Edwina?"

Jesse made a sound like he was choking, "She is totally stuck up. Doesn't date at all. Don't know who her type is, but so far, it isn't any of the guys here."

I couldn't imagine why she turned him down.

I had looked over to make sure he hadn't actually been choking. When I looked back, I found myself locked in the gaze of the deepest, darkest eyes I had ever seen. They bore into mine with an intensity that made me think they really ought to be the green slitted eyes of a big cat. There was a touch of curiosity there, a bit of confusion, but mostly just a focus that spoke of undeniable and inexorable confidence. It was staggering and I quickly looked away.

By the end of lunch, I felt different, in a way I couldn't put my finger on. It was almost as though my day had become disjointed, as though I wasn't in the same one as I was before I had walked into the cafeteria, but I couldn't understand why or how that could be. As I walked into Biology beside Mickie, I checked in with the teacher, as I had with every other class, and she told me to sit in any open seat. Once Mickie had sat, there was only one open chair, and it was at the two person table right next to her.

Edwina was, well, there wasn't any other word for it; she was gorgeous. She had the sort of beauty that you almost wanted to resist, wanted to pull away from, to deny, to insist wasn't possible because if you did, you would have to admit that you had gazed upon perfection and then know that the rest of your would be downhill from there. I could feel the butterflies even before I took a single step towards her.

I stepped carefully, taking my time, knowing that with my luck, I would trip into her lap and spend the rest of my life unable to live it down. Finally, I came to the desk and noticed that something was wrong. She had her face turned away from me, her entire posture seeming to wall herself off from the rest of the world. I sat without saying hello and realized that she was sitting ramrod straight, completely motionless, almost to the point that I wondered if she were breathing. As class went on, I glanced at her from time to time but soon gave it up. Every time I did, there was an undeniable tension that filled the air between us, and I knew that I didn't want that tension to snap.

Finally, when the bell was about to ring, I turned one last time and wished I hadn't. She had moved without me even noticing, and she looked me dead in the eyes, as she had at lunch. But this time, her eyes were... furious. The word did not do her expression justice. It was violent, the intensity the same but filled with implications of what I could only fathom was my impending death. What had I done?

Her chair slid back into the wall behind us, clattering against it at nearly the same second the bell rang. She was the first one out the door, and I just watched her go with utter bewilderment.

"What did you do?" asked Mickie as we walked out of the classroom.

I shook my head, "Nothing. I didn't even speak to her. Is she normally like that?"

"She isn't normally like anything," said Mickie. "I can't even remember the last time she spoke to anyone who wasn't one of her siblings."

It turned out that I had Gym with Mickie, who seemed unduly enthusiastic about this, but I guess she was just being friendly. Why, oh why, did we need to take four full years of Gym?! I would be contemplating riot again if I wasn't so focused on trying to understand what I did.

What did I do? Whenever I had been ostracized in the past, it was for a definitive and obvious reason. But I hadn't done anything. How could I have insulted her so, simply by existing? I didn't understand it.

After wading through the seven circle, I changed back into normal clothes without school colors or mascots and went back to the office to turn in my schedule with all my teacher's signatures. Just before I pushed open the door, I felt something thrum through me. Once I entered the office, I heard it. It was the smooth cadence of the loveliest voice I had ever heard in my life. I stood there for a moment, just listening to it, trying to understand how such a thing was possible, until I realized what the voice was saying, and once I knew what she was saying, I turned to finally, knowing who she was.

Of course. Edwina was standing in front of the desk, talking with the gentleman who I had spoken with this morning. She held herself completely differently than I had seen her earlier. There was a vulnerability to her, her subtle pleading to her every imploring word, as she tried again and again, in near desperation, to transfer out of fifth-period biology.

I refused to believe that this was about me. The door behind me opened, and I stepped aside as someone came in, the warmth of a vent hitting my back. By the time I returned my attention to her and office worker, she had stopped talking. She turned slowly, looking directly at me, all her pleading and vulnerability gone, her piercing eyes full of ferocity again.

"Never mind," she said, resonate edge to her voice slicing through me. "If it isn't possible, I understand. Thank you so very much for your help."

Every one of her words was biting, polite with an undercurrent of resentment. She pulled a fluttering hand to the lower half of her face as she turned and stepped as far as she could around me, walking just as quickly from the room as she had before. I turned in my schedule and headed home.


	3. Chapter 3: Reprisals

That night, Carrie got home just after I finished making dinner. There wasn't enough in the house to make anything more complex than pasta and fish, but if she'll let me do the shopping or go shopping with her, I would be able to change that.

"Hey, Benny," she said as she walked in the door. "Smells good."

"Thanks," I replied. I was desperate to do something when I got home. Homework only got me so far, and after replying to my dad's email, which was very sweet, if a bit clingy, I made dinner. Trying to get my mind off of the day I had. Finally, decompressed and ready to eat, Carrie set the table as I served, and soon we were both eating quietly.

"Mom?" I asked into the silence.

"Yeah?" she said back.

"Do you know the Cullens?" I asked.

She looked at me for a moment, then said, "Yes. They are some decent folks, taken in all those kids. Why?"

I backpedaled, "No particular real reason. I just heard about them at school, and I got the impression that people were talking. That's all."

"People did talk," she said, "for a while. They didn't think it was proper, but once they actually met and talked to them, they realized that they are just people, doing the right thing. They all camp regularly and stay out of trouble, and having Dr. Cullen here has really made a difference at the hospital. I am sure that more than one of our people won't be around anymore if it was for the Doctor. She is world renowned but just wanted to live in a small town. I can appreciate that."

That was obvious. Carrie wouldn't move to a big city if her life depended on it. She was where she wanted to be and she was set in her ways.

"What were people saying?" she asked.

"Oh," I said, breaking out of my revere, "just that it was weird, all the kids dating each other and all."

"Oh," she said with a chuckle. "I am sure that some of the kids would be talking about that."

"I get the impression that some were sort of jealous," I said.

Mom laughed, "Yeah. They are one good looking family."

There is a long pause, and then she asked, "You haven't started dating yet, have you?"

"Mom!" I complained. "No. I don't date."

"Why?" Carrie asked.

I thought about it, "I hate the pretense. Kids say they are in love, but break up three weeks later. They bend over backward just to get in each others' pants. It just sort of wears on me. If I do want to be with someone, I want it to be real, not just some infatuation."

Mom smiled, "And you can tell the difference?"

I snorted, "I don't know. Maybe not. But even if I can't, I haven't meant anyone who I wanted enough to see if it could be real."

I could feel a routine in the making. Me coming home, homework, emailing Dad, making dinner, either made by me or mom or both, eating dinner, cleaning up, either more homework or some form of entertainment, followed by showering and bed. Then wake up, school, and start all over again.

The next day, after a solid night sleep, I still hadn't decided what I was going to do about Biology. The thought crossed my mind that I could try to change classes myself, but the idea seemed like cowardice to me, so I dismissed it. I decided to do nothing, not until I had more information. Then I would figure out what to do next.

But, Edwina wasn't in school. I looked over at lunch, and the table where her siblings sat had no fifth occupant. What this could mean plagued me all through lunch, but when I went to Biology, our join table was empty. I sat there all class, thinking she might just be late, but she never came. I found myself worried, and strangely, it took the majority of class for me to realize that I was worried about her. What could have happened? I couldn't see how, but I suddenly began to wonder if I had driven her away.

And so the days went with little change. I sat with the same group for lunch. I started to learn names, and last names, and started to get a feel for people. Jesse was not nearly as big a tool as I had thought, and while he could be a jerk and rather insensitive, he was a loyal friend. Mickie was nice, overly so, and her good-natured attitude was more than a little endearing, but she lacked the self-confidence to really be herself. Angelo was really cool, the most down to Earth person I had met in a long time, and I had the feeling we could be good friends in no time. Lauren was a bit of a mystery to me, and when he did talk, I got the impression that he was always saying what people wanted to hear.

Finally, after almost two weeks of nearly tolerable weather, I was getting out of Government with Mickie when bits of powdered flakes were falling from the sky.

"What the heck," I said in equal parts surprise and disbelief.

Mickie looked at me with the same expression, "What? It's just snow."

"This is snow?" I asked. She shook her head, laughing.

"You Arizona boys," she said and headed off to class.

I spent the rest of the morning darting from class to class, avoiding slush and snowballs and good-natured cheer that I did not share.

"I swear," I said to Jesse after Spanish, walking to the cafeteria, "I am going to pick up a slicker after school if this keeps up."

He laughed, "Why?"

I was about to make some comment about my aversion to hypothermia when I glanced over at the Cullens' table, as was my routine, and froze. There were five people sitting at the table.

"Ben," Jesse said, and I got the impression it wasn't the first time he asked, "Yo! Earth to Ben!"

I turned, "What?"

I felt suddenly nervous, not entirely sure why. I couldn't tell if I was nervous because she was back or nervous because I might get to figure out what this was all about, finally.

"Seriously, dude," said Jesse, "are you okay? You're not going to puke, right? See, I have this thing about puking, and I can't puke here where... people might see me."

"I'm fine," I said, facing forward in line. I tried to pick out food, but suddenly everything looks as edibility as rubber cement. I am finally grabbed the closest drink to me and nothing else.

"Dude," said Jesse a little louder than usual, "When did..."

I looked at him and realized he was looking at back and forth between me and the Cullens' table.

"Edwina Cullen is totally checking you out, dude," he said, his tone full of vicarious enthusiasm.

"Really?" I said, trying to keep my tone casual. "That's weird. I haven't seen her since my first day."

"Yeah," he said. "But the Cullens cut school all the time. They get straight A's, so the teachers practically let them get away with murder."

I laughed, though I wasn't sure why. But that explained a lot. Maybe it had nothing to do with me at all. Maybe she just took off for a while, if that was something they normally did. Maybe there was just something else going on, and I just had not idea what it was or what it could be. Maybe I was just going crazy.

I glanced their way as Jesse and I head to our usual table, and they were laughing, playing with the snow, just like everyone else. But something about it didn't seem right. Of all the times I had looked at their table, which was more times than I really cared to admit to myself, they never looked like that. It looked like a commercial for winter wear or a similar scene, like some contrivance to convince onlookers that they were just like everyone else.

Lunch finished and I seriously considered cutting class, but I had never skipped class in my life, so I gritted my teeth and made my way with heavy feet.

She was there, sitting in the same seat she had been in before. Her posture was much more relaxed, which I supposed was a good thing. I walked slowly to my seat, preparing for the same silence as last time, but I hadn't been there more than a few moments when she spoke.

"Hello," she said, her voice full of levity.

I turned, completely unprepared, "I... hi."

She smiled at me, and I felt like the bottom had fallen out of my stomach.

"I didn't get the chance to introduce myself the Monday before last," she said. "My name is Edwina Cullen."

Her voice was polite on the surface, but full of hidden depths and was as appealing as music. I took a moment to just wondering what it would sound like to hear her sing, then I remembered that she was here and my silences would be noticed.

"I'm Benjamin Hawkins," I answered, kicking myself. I was not fond of my full first name, but holding it up against something like Edwina by contrast just made it seem drab.

"You don't prefer Ben?" she asked, and something about the way she said it struck me as odd, as though it was common knowledge that she already had.

"I do prefer Ben, in fact," I said. "How did you know that?"

Her lip twitched, and then she said, "You really don't strike me as the Benjamin type."

"I wasn't aware that I stuck you as anything," I said before I can really think about it.

There was a short pause as Mrs. Banner began passing out slides and directing us to use the microscopes to pick out the different stages of cellular mitosis. There was another pause as we both waited to see what the other would do first.

After it became evident that she wasn't going to take the lead, I picked up the first slide and fitted it onto the stage, making the proper adjustments so that it is in focus, and checked; prophase.

I turned to her, "What do you think?"

She looked at me for a moment, then slid forward, glancing into the eyepiece.

"What do you think?" she said in kind, her tone matching mine so well it almost sounds like a well-devised impression.

"Prophase," I said, and she nodded in agreement, deftly pulling paper from a notebook and writing it down. I took the liberty of fitting the next slide. Before I could do more, she leaned in, and our hands met as we both reached to adjust the stage height. I was suddenly aware of nothing but the shock of her fingers against mine, suddenly wrenching every single thread of my consciousness to that one sensation, cool and smooth against my skin.

Just as quickly, she pulled her hand back, and I sheepishly withdrew mine as well.

"Please," I mumbled, and she checked the eyepiece, then leaned back to give me my chance to look; Anaphase.

I looked over at her, waiting. She quickly wrote down Anaphase on the paper. I was surprised just how neat her handwriting was, far better than most I had ever seen. We alternated our rolls, though she kept writing, until we were finished the lab, well ahead of everyone else.

"Have you done this lab before?" she asked, and I nodded.

"I was taking honors courses back in Phoenix," I said.

She nodded expectantly, "Why did you transfer here then?"

This took me completely by surprise. It wasn't that no one here had asked me that yet; it was that no one had asked me that ever, not even my parents, and I hadn't really noticed until that moment. I called my mother and asked, and she said yes and talked it over with my dad. Neither had even asked why I had chosen this, to move back here, to the town where my dad, and then I, had run from so long ago. Carrie was too interested to ask and risk me changing my mind, and Ray just wanted me to be happy and knew that I made my own decisions seemingly better than he made his. No one had bothered to ask, until now.

"My dad remarried," I said, not sure why I was explaining myself, but I suddenly felt like I had to.

"That doesn't explain anything," she said, sounding almost put out by my answer.

I sighed, "My dad is sort of young for his age. Felicia is practically closer to my age than his. It's hard to have a kid around when you're young and in love and newly married."

She sounds a little indignant when she replied, "Your father sent you here to live with your mother so he could be alone with his new wife?"

I became more indignant than she sounded, "No. I came here on my own."

She just stared at me, then finally said, "I do not understand."

I really wished that I had kept my big mouth shut, "Felicia does modeling, well enough that she gets work all around the country, but not well enough that she can choose a city to work in exclusively. So my dad had the choice of traveling with her or staying with me. I just made the decision easier for him."

She seemed to think about that, then Mrs. Banner came by, "How is the lab going?"

"We already finished," I said, indicating the paper Edwina had before her.

Mrs. Banner glanced between it and her, "I hope you let your partner do some of the work too, Ms. Cullen."

Edwina gave a radiant smile, "He did his full share, I assure you, Mrs. Banner. He was in an advanced placement course in Phoenix."

She looked back at me and I gazed at the tabletop.

"Alright," said Mrs. Banner. "Just find something quietly to do for the rest of the lesson, please."

I opened my book to the next chapter and began reading, or pretended to read.

"That doesn't seem very fair," said Edwina.

I let out a huff, not looking up from my book, "What doesn't?"

She stretched, turning her head this way and that, and finally said, "You moved up here, where it is cold and uncomfortable, and you have no friends. What are you getting out of this?"

I looked over at her, my anger evaporating as a different statement forces itself out of my lips in front of my intended one, "What's wrong with your eyes?"

"Nothing," she said, sitting straighter. "They are perfectly fine."

I blinked several times, "Last time I saw you, they were practically black."

She blinked too, flitting open and shut her soft amber eyes, lighter than her hair. She rolled those eyes at me.

"If I had black eyes, I believe I would have noticed," she said. "You didn't answer my question; what are you getting out of this?"

I felt my frustration redouble, and I just managed to keep my voice down as I said, "Did it ever occur to you that this isn't about what I want? My dad deserves to be happy."

She sat very still, her eyes searching my face, then said, "Don't you deserve to be happy too?"

I slouched in something very much like defeat, "Yes, of course. But that isn't really an option for me right now."

I turned my attention back to my book. After several minutes, she asked, "Did I offend you?"

"No," I concede, my voice more gentle, "no. I am just frustrated. It's easier when people don't bring it up. So far, you're the first."

I was about to go back to my book, but then I said, "What does it matter to you?"

I meant to say it reproachfully, but it came out more curious than anything else.

"That's an excellent question," she muttered to herself. She doesn't say anything else to me the rest of the day.

That afternoon, as I was sitting in my truck, looking out over the parking lot, waiting my turn to drive home, I realized that I had never mentioned to her my aversion to the cold and wet. The thought filled me with questions that would just have to wait until tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4: Phenomenon

The next morning, I woke to the most unusual sound I had heard since I arrived; utter quiet. I looked out my window and found that everything seemed to be layered with a veneer of ice. All the snow that had thawed to slush had frozen in the night. I dressed warmly, as warmly as I could in the clothing I currently had in my possession, then made my way carefully to my truck. After nearly falling twice, I managed to get close enough to hold on to the frame for balance. Under my windshield wiper was a fluttering paper, which I grabbed. At first, I thought it was a ticket until I realized it was blank and had Carrie's writing on the back.

Icy streets. Put chains on your tires. I'll show you how next time. Go slow. - Mom

I looked down to see the chains around my tires. I guessed that they helped with traction. I did as Carrie suggested and drove slowly to school. I was not sure how it would be without them, but the chains really did seem to help. By the time I got to school, I was glad for her assistance.

I slid carefully out of the truck, not wanting to spend Friday morning in the nurse's office with a sprained ankle or anything. I was considering how to move car to car, trying to avoid falling and or damaging anyone else's vehicle, when I heard a terrible shriek. Turning, I saw Taylor Crowley's van was turning into the parking lot, coming too fast, and slid into a patch of ice. Still coming, the van was out of control, heading straight for... me.

This was it. Turning, I looked towards the school, not entirely sure why, until my eyes met a pair of liquid golden eyes, staring back at me in almost defiant terror. It didn't really matter. I looked at her face, her staring back at me, and felt contented. If her face was the last thing I would see, I would consider myself lucky and be satisfied. I closed my eyes, ready.

Something hit me, but not from the angle I was expecting. Rather than being slammed in one direction, I was hit and twisted sideways, being pulled down and around. I expected to hit pavement face first, but whatever the cold hard thing beneath me was, it was neither flat nor regular. If felt like someone was beneath me, holding on to me as I fell. I landed heavily, feeling bruised in spite of feeling somewhat cradled. My forehead connected solidly with the asphalt, though not nearly as hard as I have hit it before. I suddenly realized that someone really was under me, and the low hiss I heard filled me with more confusion than the head injury already had. Again, I was pulled around, rolled, and whoever was under me was now above me, placing their body between me and the still coming van's undercarriage. I could now see that we were beneath it and that is was coming hazardously close to us. I heard the undeniable clang of metal on metal and just caught the sight of copper hair cracking like a whip in my field of vision. Then there was more rending metal, and finally, things above us seemed to settle.

Before I could gather my wits, I felt something binding, pressed to my cheekbones and sternum, and more pressure on the back of my head, down my spine. Completely immobilized, I was drawn carefully out from under the van, into the sheltering V-shape between the van and where it collided with the rear fender of my truck.

"Ben," her voice whispered in my ear. "Ben, are you alright?"

Her voice sounded almost nervous, far more nervous than I felt.

"I'm fine," I said, my voice muffled, and she was suddenly above me, though I was still held just as firmly. The surprise on her face was unmistakable, as was the sudden dismay.

"What happened?" I asked and realized that what was muffling my voice was her hand. She was holding me still, protecting me from doing further injury to myself.

"There was an accident," she said with a calm that did not match her expression.

I tried to sit up.

"I'm fine," I said, "Just hit my head, and not all that hard either. Let me up."

She didn't release me.

"You could be worse of than you think," she went on. "You need a hospital, x-rays-"

"No!" I practically yelled, but despite my attempts to fight her, I couldn't move. Finally, I relented and started piecing things together.

"How did you do that?" I asked, but she didn't have time to reply before they others found us.

"Are you alright?" I heard someone call from somewhere near my feet.

"I'm fine," we both said together, but she went on, "He hit his head. I have him in inline stabilization. We need two ambulances and someone needs to check if Taylor is conscious. If she is, keep her still if at all possible."

I had no choice but to resign to what was coming.

"How did you do that?" I asked again, trying to keep my voice quiet so others won't hear. If she heard me, she didn't reply.

I didn't know what happened with Taylor, but soon a group worked together to move the van away from us. I couldn't see anything by Edwina, and that was just fine with me. Her expression was deep with worry, though I was pretty sure that it had little to do with me. I was going to be just fine, and I was sure she knew it. I guess it wasn't the best argument to say that I had had enough head injuries to know this wasn't serious. Then why? What was the reason for the hospital? What was with the pretense?

The stretcher and the paramedic were there shortly thereafter. They slipped the brace around my neck and I sighed. They moved me onto the stretcher and I was just about the most embarrassed I thought I could ever be until I heard my mother's voice.

"Benny?" I heard Carrie asked from somewhere outside my field of vision, which was currently straight up.

Unthinkingly, I let out a moan and the paramedic looked me over, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Nothing, I'm fine."

"Benjamin?" Carrie asked, suddenly right there, but before I can think about replying, she turned towards the paramedic, "What happened?"

"Car accident," he said. "Nothing life threatening as far as we can tell. Hit his head. Taking him to the hospital now."

"I'm fine, mom," I said. "This is completely ridiculous and unnecessary."

"I'll meet you at the hospital," said Carrie, and soon I was being pushed into the back of an ambulance, and the doors were closing behind me. I looked straight ahead, which, again, was straight up, and realized that Edwina was sitting in the ambulance too, just ahead of me.

"Were you hurt at all?" I asked, and the paramedic suddenly looked over at her.

"Not a scratch," she said, and as I was thinking more about it, what happened started to crystallize in my head. She saved me. She pulled me out of the way of the van, she protected me from it, putting herself in harm's way. What she did was extraordinary, and impossible by all that standards I had learned and knew about the world. I looked over at her, and I realized she was deeply worried.

Going to the hospital was my own personal nightmare. Not that I hadn't been before, but usually when something serious enough happened to me that I needed to go, it wasn't nearly so public. Luckily, I am brought into the emergency area quickly, away from prying eyes.

I wasn't sure what happened to Edwina, but I was moved into a bed beside Taylor. She looked awful, and before I could ask if she was alright, she practically tripping over herself trying to get an apology out.

"Ben, I am so sorry," she said. "I just hit the ice wrong and I was going too fast and everything happened too quickly and I couldn't stop. Are you alright? Is your neck okay? Oh god, I am so-"

She looked to be in far worse shape than me. Her cuts from some broken glass were very evident, but I was sure she was far more battered than me. I was about to ask when I could get the neck brace off when the doctor walked in, and there was no doubt who she was.

She was blonde and just as beautiful as every other member of her family. She read over both our charts with a practiced flourish that was as graceful as everything else she did.

"Hello, Ben," she said with the best bedside manner I had ever encountered. "I am Dr. Cullen, and we will have you out of here just as soon as we can."

"Please," I pleaded, and she smiled brilliantly at me, checking my pupils and my ears with a light. She looked me over, and after checking the time of the accident and doing a brief inspection of my neck, she removed the brace. Gently inspecting and probing my head with her fingertips, she agreed with my assessment that I wasn't seriously hurt. She wrote me a prescription for high dose acetaminophen if I should need it and told me to return if I should start to feel dizzy or nauseous. She said that my mother would be back to get me just as soon as she finished filling out paperwork. With that, she turned her attention to Taylor.

I was wondering if I could sneak out to find Carrie without anyone stopping me when I spotted Edwina at the other end of the room. She waved me over, and I didn't need asking twice. I slid out of bed and found my bearings without falling, then walked over to meet her.

"How's your head?"

Something about the way she said it made think she was just being polite.

"Can we talk?" I asked.

Her eyes narrowed, "About what?"

I looked over at the nurse not far away, and Edwina led me out into an empty hallway.

"What?" she asked.

"I want to know what happened," I stated, and she didn't look at all happy.

"You know what happened," she said.

"You crossed the entire parking lot before the van got to me," I said, looking around to make sure we were alone. "You pulled me out of the way. You helped me. And I'm grateful, but I'm just trying to understand. What you did was... It shouldn't be possible."

"I was standing beside you," she said. "You must be confused. You hit your head."

"No," I insisted, raising my voice, then bringing it back down, "I know what happened. Don't just blow me off. Please."

Something crossed her face. It was a flicker, something I wasn't able to catch. Then her face became calm and smooth, like a statue's.

"I was standing with you," she said, her tone both compelling and somehow pleading. "We slipped on the ice and rolled under the van. You hit your head, and I was very lucky. That is what happened."

"You want me to lie for you?" I asked, "without any-"

"That is what happened," she said, her voice no longer pleading, now hard and ice cold. "Even if you tell anyone what you think you saw, no one would believe you. You hit your head, so why bother?"

"I just want the truth," I said, feeling hurt. " I wasn't going to tell anyone."

I could feel the little trembles in my face, the heat, and know what is coming. I haven't cried in public, other than at the movies, in nearly eight years, and I am not about to let her know what she got to me. Turning, I walked away, looking for my D-, for my mom. Just before I rounded the corner, I sniffed and wiped away the only tear that managed to fall.


	5. Chapter 5: Invitations

I spent the weekend recovering. Or rather, I spent the weekend in my room, in my bed, trying not think and feeling miserable. Carrie checked in on me regularly, but every time she asked if I needed anything, I was silent until she started getting worried that I might be worse, so I just started grumbled at her until she went away. I accepted the sandwiches she brought me at each meal and the ice for my head that came along with it, but that was all.

Once we had left the hospital, she had asked if I was alright and what had happened. I gave her the story that Edwina had given me, with even less detail, and said that I didn't want to talk about it. And I hadn't. I didn't understand what was going on, and I didn't like being treated... the way I was being treated.

Finally, Sunday night, I decided that I had had enough. I was going to let it go. I would tell everyone the same story that I had told Carrie, just as Edwina asked. I would show her that I was trustworthy and that she had nothing to worry about. We could just go back to being... what?

That Monday, school was more taxing than my first day there. People I had never met before, who had never said two words to me, were bombarding me with questions as though the accident was the most amazing thing that happened in this town in a generation. All things considered, it might have been. I went along with it, answering questions with the story in mind, telling everyone the same thing, over and over.

"Edwina had been with me the whole time."

"I know. We slipped and rolled under the van."

"No, I just hit my head a little. Edwina was fine."

"Yeah. I was really lucky."

Soon, it was only my friends talking to me about it, and in a few days, other than the occasional offhanded comment, even my friends stopped talking about it. I thought everything might be okay, better even. But I was wrong.

Edwina stopped talking to me altogether. That first day, I sat beside her, and it was the same as the first day, minus the tension and the glaring. I said "hello", politely, and she didn't even look at me. I might as well have not existed.

The weeks passed, and at first, Carrie seemed worried, but I quickly fell back into the same routine, though I was quieter than I had been before. She didn't ask and I didn't answer, and we simply occupied the same house. Finally, one Thursday, I got to school and could tell something was different. That was when I noticed the posters. Apparently, there was a dance coming up, a sort of Sadie Hawkins girls choice thing. Great.

This had never been an issue for me before. I had never been to a dance in my life, nor had I particularly wanted to, and they didn't really have girl's choice dances at my old school. Luckily, I hadn't been here very long, and no one had really showed any particular interest in me, so I wasn't concerned.

"What's with the Sadie Hawkins thing?" I asked Jesse as we walked out of Government. "I mean, isn't this supposed to be a progressive society where girls can ask guys out all the time?"

Jesse looked at me sideways, "Are you wearing makeup?"

My brow furrowed, "No."

"Why not?" he asked.

I thought about it, and snorted, "Touche."

"Besides," he said, "I kind of like it. I mean, it's like a game, a reason to try new things, try things differently. Who knows! Someone might ask me that I didn't expect."

We started walking in earnest towards building seven, and I looked over at him, "Like who?"

I followed his gaze for a moment and saw that he was staring after Mickie, walking to a class in the other direction.

"No one in particular," he muttered.

At lunch, I noticed that Jesse and Mickie came in at almost the same time, which was weird. They sat well apart from each other, and whenever I looked over at him, Jesse looked sullen and never met my eyes. Mickie chatted animatedly with me, and finally, we made our way to Biology together.

"I'm planning a trip to the beach this weekend," she said. "I'm getting together a bunch of friends, do a picnic and everything. Do you want to go?"

"Sure," I said smiling. "It sounds like fun. I haven't been out there in years."

She followed me to my desk, which she did now and again, and kept chatting away, but this time it was pretty much all just unnecessary small talk. I continued politely, wondering what was up.

Finally, she said, "So Jesse asked me today if I was planning to ask anyone to the dance."

"Really," I said surprised, "so did you ask him?"

"No," she said hesitantly, "I was thinking about asking you."

This was a surprise, but not totally unexpected, now that I thought about it. Mickie and I chatted every day, and she has clearly been agreeable and nice to me. I supposed if I was the sort of person to date and go to dances, it might be fun to go as friends, but that really wasn't me and I wouldn't want to hurt Jesse's feelings.

"I don't go to dances," I said, and she looked more than a little disappointed.

"Besides," I said quickly, firming up plans that had been bouncing around in my head recently anyway. "I am planning on a day trip to Seattle that Saturday. I likely won't be back until late."

She looked more mollified, but then looked as though she was forming arguments that might get around my trip, so I added in a pleasant voice, "Maybe you should ask Jesse. Doesn't it seem like he might want to go with you? I mean, why else would he ask if you had asked anyone yet?"

She looked disappointed again, muttered something that could have been "okay", then headed to her seat. As class started, I thought about going to Seattle. I really needed more books, and since there didn't seem to be much demand for selection here, judging from the postage stamp-sized library and entire lack of bookstores, I really needed to get out of town to look. While I was at it, I might as well pick up some warmer clothes, maybe find a few sights to check out or a park to read in.

I was just wondering what the weather would be like when I turned and was stilled by the fact that Edwina was staring at me, openly. Had anyone asked me before this moment what I would have done if I had found her looking at me, I would have said that I would have been irritated, but instead, I found myself staring back. I had missed her face without realizing it, missed being able to look at her. And it wasn't that her face was more beautiful than a master's best work either. I realized that I missed her, her expressions, the way we had talked before. No one had cared enough to pay that much attention to who I was and what I felt before, in some ways more thoroughly than my parents had. That mattered to me.

But then, it went away. I realized that it didn't matter. Whatever sort of budding friendship or whatever had been going on between us, it was over. She didn't care anymore. I didn't matter to her. And no matter how much I didn't want to admit it, that hurt.

Mrs. Banner asked a question, and Edwina turned and answered. I wasn't sure if she went back to staring at me, but I kept my eyes forward, not wanting to continue the potential torment any longer than I already had.

As the bell rang and I started to pack up my books, she spoke to me.

"Ben," she said, and her voice was soft, with just the barest hint of pleading.

The hurt was too raw in me to sound anything but bitter, "What?"

Her face smoothed out, became nearly expressionless.

"We shouldn't be friends," she said. "It isn't fair to you. It isn't right."

I finished stacking my books.

"Whatever you say," I said harshly.

Her face was momentarily confused, then almost frustrated, "Meaning?"

I held my books, taking a deep breath, "You have made your position in this situation more than clear. You don't trust me. You don't trust me with the truth, and you don't care enough to be honest with me. Justify it however you want; in the end, you're just a coward."

I wasn't sure what I expected. Her expression flashed a dozen times or more, through anger, fear, disgust, pain, sadness, regret, and back again. After a moment, she settled back into expressionless.

"You have no idea what you are talking about," she said.

I picked up my books, "I might... if you actually told me."

I walked out. I made it to my locker, was opening it to drop off my books when they fell. I tried to catch them, and as soon as it was evident that there was no way to do that, I watched them tumble down in utter frustration. I looked at the ceiling and breathed, closing my eyes a moment. When I finally went to reach down and pick them up, they were gone. Turning, I found Edwina standing there, holding them for me. I jumped, then stared back at her.

"That was rude of me," she said. "But I am serious when I say that we shouldn't be friends. It would be better for you, in the long run."

"Edwina," I said in exasperation, trying to ignore the thrill I got from actually saying her name, "It's my life. Don't make any decisions for me."

She handed me my books, nodding, "Fair enough. But don't try to make mine for me either."

She was right. If she wanted to ignore me, to not care about me, that was completely up to her.

I felt my voice catch, almost breaking as I said, "Okay. Fair enough."

I took my books, slipped them into my locker and went to Gym.

The rest school was a blur to me. I tripped my way through volleyball, trying to stay out of the way more than anything else. By the end of it, was ready to flee home and forget this whole stupid day ever happened. I was halfway to my truck when I heard my name behind me.

"Ben."

I turned and saw Erica Yorkie walking towards me. I somehow managed to drudge up a not entirely dejected expression.

"Hi Erica," I said. "What's up?"

"I was wondering," she said but seemed unable to go on.

"Wondering?" I asked, confused. "Wondering what?"

"Did you want to," she said, "you know, go to the... uh... dance? With me? Maybe?"

She said it so breathlessly and quietly that it took me a minute to put it together, and then longer to remember what she was even talking about. The dance...

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to be kind, but it came out a little flat. "I won't be in town that day."

"Oh," she said. "Uh... okay then. Sorry to bug you."

She almost ran. I was starting to feel bad for that, when I turned and saw Edwina, standing a few feet away, watching me. My annoyance was greatly increased.

"Can I help you?" I asked caustically.

She raised her eyebrows, "Now who's being rude. I was just standing here."

"Stand somewhere else," I snapped, and was about to turn and walk away when she said, "You should apologize."

I stopped, and stared at her, "What?"

"When you are rude, you should apologize," she said very seriously.

I stared at her like she had just started speaking Martian.

"You want me to apologize?" I asked.

"No," she said, "I said you should apologize. I don't think you will, though. I think you will just carry on being rude."

I glared at her.

"Well then," I said, "you're right!"

I turned and walked towards my truck, wondering if I could be heard above the rumbling engine if I decided to start scream. I was about to back out when I noticed a silver car stopped behind me. I couldn't back out, and I was about to turn and shout some choice obscenities when someone tapped on my window. I looked up to seen Taylor looking in at me, a smile on her face.

"Hey," I said, rolling down my window, sounding less than thrilled. "What can I do for you?"

"Hey," she said, her tone really quite pleasant. Her confidence actually looked quite good on her. "I'm glad I caught you."

I blinked, confused, "Okay. You caught me. What's up?"

"I was wondering-"

Oh, please, god no!

"-if you wanted to go to the dance with me," she finished.

I quickly counted to ten in my head. It didn't help. I did it again. Still didn't help. I was getting close to forty when I finally got out, a smile on my mostly clenched teeth, "I am going... to be out of town."

"I heard that is what you said to Mickie," she said. "But it sounded like you were just letting her down easy."

I didn't think I had ever been so soundly irritated before, "No... I wasn't. I'm not... going."

Her smile was still fixed to her face, "That's cool. There's still prom anyway."

I am apoplectic with the burning fury of a thousand suns as she turned almost skipped away.

I looked in my rearview, and the silver car was still there. Then, I noticed the driver. Edwina smiled back at me, her amusement equal to my anger. I was close to tears, so very and truly spent with frustration was I, it is almost painful. After a long blink to hold back what might come, I looked again, and the car was gone.

That night, after I had finished my homework and said that I was fine to Carrie at least seven times during dinner, I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering why this got under my skin so much. Was it just that I didn't want all the attention, or was it that I really just wanted... a different sort of attention? Did I really not want to be asked to the dance, or did I want to be asked... by her? I didn't let myself figure that out.

That night was the first time I dreamt of Edwina Cullen.


	6. Chapter 6: Blood Typing

That night was a particularly cathartic sleep. I remembered my dream, but not where it took place. I watched as Edwina smiled and started walking away from me, and asked her not to go, to stay. Given the day before, I sort of hoped that the dreams weren't what help me rest, but all I knew was that I felt better, so I wasn't going to question it too much.  
I was not particularly enthusiastic to get to school, mostly because I knew it was only a matter of time before more annoyance and frustration befell me. I just wanted to get through the next day and go to the beach with my new friends and get my mind off things. I just needed to get there.  
I got a school a little early. As was usually the case, when I got distracted, I managed to get things done faster and was ahead of the usual group flocking to the parking lot that morning. I opened my door and was turning towards the back end of the truck, towards the school, when I realized that I wasn't alone. Not only was I not alone, but someone was less than a foot in front of me, leaning against my truck.  
I jumped back, staring at Edwina. I managed not to fall, but only just, and my keys slipped out of my hands. I didn't hear them hit the ground, but I was too busy staring at her. She reached out, and only then did I realize she was handing my keys back to me. She caught them?  
"How do you do that?" I asked, more than a little peeved.  
It wasn't until she smiled wider that I realized that she was smiling. It was an amazing smile, deep, going all the way to her eyes. I couldn't look away from her mouth, watching her pretty pink lips almost caress her face as they kept shifting about, her expression almost downright bubbly in its eagerness. What was going on?  
Finally, I realized I was staring, as I straightened and took the keys, she said, "It helps when the other person isn't looking."  
She made it sound like she was going a trick. I had had enough of her tricks.  
"What do you want?" I said, sounding just a little tired of her.  
She beamed and let lose a trilling little laugh, and I took a long shuttering breath.  
"I wanted to talk to you about something," she said pleasantly.  
I tried to sound less than charitable, and it didn't really work out.  
"I thought you didn't want to talk to me," I pointed out, "that you didn't want to be my friend, in point of fact."  
Her lips twisted and formed themselves in a half smile, "I never said I didn't want to be your friend."  
"Yeah, you did!" I said in exasperation.  
"I said that it would be better if we weren't friends," she pointed out.  
I thought about it and realized she was right, "Okay, so, what? You are talking to me quite a lot for someone who doesn't think we should be friends."  
She cast her eyes downward, almost shyly, and it was amazingly comely on her.  
"I know that my behavior has been a bit contradictory," she said smoothly, "and I can image that it might be a bit... confusing for you. But it really isn't worth the effort to try and stay away from you anymore."  
I blinked at least three times before I remembered to breathe.  
I shook my head at her, "I... just don't get you. At all."  
She laughed again and as she did, someone drove past us, and I realized that we were standing in the parking lot at school.  
"Was that it?" I asked. "Can I go now or do you want to confuse me some more?"  
She pressed her lips, and I had to drag my eyes away from them to pay attention to what was going on.  
"You keep distracting me," she said. I had to let out an involuntary snort. I distract her?  
"I wanted to ask you," she said, dropping off.  
"Yes?" I asked, sighing.  
"Saturday after next," she went on but dropping off again.  
My expression becomes closed, "Yes?"  
"The weekend of the dance-" she said.  
"No!" I blurted out. "This can not be happening to me..."  
"What?" she said, poorly suppressed laughter trembling through her voice. "You aren't going to Seattle that Saturday?"  
I stopped, looking at her, "That was the plan, why?"  
"Would you like a ride?" she asked.  
I glance behind me, "I have a truck."  
She smiled, shaking her head, "I never said you didn't."  
"I can get there myself," I justify.  
"Never said you couldn't," she said again.  
I turned to walk away, "Will you just leave me alone!?"  
Before I could take three steps, she was there, right in front of me, really quiet close.  
She was shorter than me, but not by much. Everything about her face recalled felines; her gold eyes, the thinness of her small nose, her pronounced cheekbones, her diminutive mouth, her almost pointed chin, the concavity of her jawline. Her expression wasn't the beaming amusement and unassailable happiness it had been moments before; it was serious and earnest, verily full of unspoken depths and the unplumbed mysteries. She looked deep into my eyes.  
"Please, don't walk away," she said, her voice almost rough with some emotion. "You didn't answer my question."  
I could have sworn, I had one of those... things, a minute ago, with the lips and... for talking.  
"You... question?" slipped out.  
"Do you want to drive with me to Seattle, next Saturday?" she asked.  
"Yes," I said. Words like disagree and argument had lost all meaning to me.  
"Great," she beamed, back the smiling self she had been before. "See you later."  
She turned and walked away.  
I couldn't have relayed a single thing that was spoken about in those first three classes that day. I hoped they weren't anything important. I just found myself sitting in my usual seat beside Jesse in Spanish as the bell for lunch rang. I dropped my books.  
"Oh, my, god, dude!" said Jesse. "What is with you today? Mrs. Varner called on you three times before she just gave up! I have never seen that happen. I thought we were going to have to check for a pulse or call an exorcist or something."  
I blinked away my daze, "Today, has been... a really weird day."  
We started walking to lunch.  
"Oh?" Jesse asked. "How so?"  
I shook my head, "I don't even know how to begin to explain."  
We walked into the cafeteria, and immediately, my eyes swept the Cullens' table. She wasn't there. Of course.  
We moved into the line, and I grabbed an apple.  
"Are you feeling okay?" asked Jesse. "Seriously, what is up with you?"  
"Nothing," I said disappointedly. "Just... nothing. Never mind."  
We walked out of the line and started heading to our usual table, but as we started heading that way, I finally saw her. She was sitting alone, with a whole table to herself, smiling. At me. She cast a hand to the open chairs, invitingly.  
"Um," I said to Jesse, "I'll catch up with you later."  
"Why?" he asked. I turned and walked away. Just before I reached the table, I caught a distant, "Are you KIDDING me!?"  
I set the apple down on the table as I pulled out the chair across from her. Sitting down, I held the apple between my palms, rolling it slightly back and forth as I looked over at her from under my brows.  
"I have to ask," I said, "what gives?"  
She crossed her arms and settled back, shifting in her chair and flashed me that lovely half smile again.  
"Whatever do you mean?" she asked back.  
I pointed the apple at her with one hand, almost accusingly, "You hate me, you're polite to me, you ignore me, you reject me, now you won't leave me alone. I'm getting whiplash over here."  
I took a bite of the apple as she quirked her lips and said teasingly, "I thought women were supposed to be unfathomable and convoluted."  
I didn't actually inhale the apple, but it was a close thing.  
"You are at that," I said after I swallowed, "but you aren't like any young woman I've ever known."  
She smiled a private little smile, and said so quietly I almost didn't catch it, "True."  
There was a long silence that wasn't so quiet in the noise cafeteria, into which I ate more apple.  
"Tell me what you're thinking," she said, and there was a tone to her voice that bordered on reverent.  
I was wondering if her lips were as smooth as they looked, but there was no way I was going to admit that, so I said instead, "I was wondering what you weren't telling me."  
As soon as the words came out, I regretted them. I expected her to become closed and cold, but she simply smiled and said, "Oh."  
The smile didn't touch her eyes.  
I sighed heavily, "Look, you don't have to tell me. I get it. But can't you at least tell me why you can't tell me?"  
She pressed her lips in a thoughtful pout, and I decidedly tried to shame myself into stop staring at her lips.  
"Two reasons," she said at length. "One, it isn't my secret to tell, and two, I am afraid that if I do tell you, you'll stay away from me."  
I took that in, "If it isn't your secret then who's is it?"  
She shook her head, "That would be telling."  
A breathed a moment, then glanced over my shoulder at her siblings, sitting together, looking decidedly unhappy, all except Alice, the brunette of a pixie who beamed at me.  
"Fair enough," I said. "But why do you think that I would stay away from you?"  
She looked saddened, an almost heartache that punched me in the gut, "I don't want to tell you."  
"Why?" I asked, wanting desperately to do something, anything, to get expression off her face.  
"For the same reason," she said almost weakly, "If I tell you that, why you should stay away, I am afraid you will. And you should. It would be in your best interest to never speak to me again."  
I tried to imagine that, just to seriously consider it, and I was surprised by just how loathsome the idea was.  
"You were wrong before," she said. "I am not a coward. It might be better for you if I was. Instead, I am something far, far worse for you."  
"And that is?" I asked flatly.  
"Selfish," she answered, her voice full of recrimination.  
I thought about what had happened, those long weeks ago, that day, what happened that had brought us together only to smash us apart. She had rescued me, but in doing so, had showed me that she was something unnatural. I thought about what she had done, her speed, her strength, the very impossibility of her. She had risked so much, more than I even knew, to help me, defend me, to keep me safe. Was she doing that now? What was she keeping me safe from?  
Then it clicked.  
"Oh," I said.  
And for the first time, she looked truly dismayed, painful so.  
"What?" she practically demanded, sounding sincerely desperate for the first time.  
"It's dangerous," I said, making it a statement.  
She stilled her whole self, all but her eyes, which watching me.  
"Or," I went on, "it can be dangerous. There's... risk to being around you."  
She nodded, just enough for me to see it.  
"You're afraid that if I understand that, when I understand it, I'll leave," I kept saying.  
"You should go," she said tightly. "It isn't worth risking..."  
She stopped, overcome.  
I couldn't do it. I thought about it and tried, but I couldn't do it. I didn't want to stay away from her. I knew that I could change my mind, but for now, I didn't want to.  
"So," I said, trying to lighten the mood, "as long as I am willing to risk it and you're being selfish, we can be friends?"  
It worked; she exhaled a badly restrained laugh as she smiled at me.  
"Friends," she agreed.  
"And," I quipped, "so long as you don't pull a Doctor Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde on me and stay away from me for my own good again."  
That half smile came back, and I basked in it, smiling in return.  
"I really don't think you will have to worry about that again," she said. "As I said, I am a selfish creature. I tried to do the right thing, and it didn't work. So, now, I am going to just do what I want. As long as you want to be my... friend, I will be yours."  
My smile was just a tad melancholy, "You don't have to make me any promises."  
The bell ringing made me jump so bad, I nearly collided with the table.  
"Oh, wow," I said, remembering where we were. "Come on. We are going to be late."  
She gave me a tight-lipped smile, "I'm not going to class."  
I looked at her, disconcerted, "Why?"  
The smile became wider but still tight-lipped, "It would be a really bad idea to go."  
"I've never cut class before," I said, and this time, it looked as though she was smiling to hold back words.  
"I'm going to go," I said, preparing to throw out my apple core, "I guess I will see you later."  
She nodded and smiled once more, "See you later."  
I walked out of the cafeteria, doing all I could to not look back.  
The table in Biology felt strangely empty without her there, and I was soon reminded of the days she wasn't there. I wondered if she would tell me about that if I asked her. I was about to take out my book when Mrs. Banner started passing out some sort of small kits. I looked at mine; a pipette, an applicator card, and a small disposable tube with a needle- Oh no...  
"Today," she said, "we are going to do blood typing."  
Why, oh why didn't I cut class when I had the chance!?  
"Break the seal on your micro-lancet like so," she said, going to one of the boys in class. Never was I so glad to be sitting in the back.  
"Now," she said, "you are going to prick your finger like so."  
I put my head down on the desk, starting to breathe shallowly. I wasn't sure how long it was until Mrs. Banner came by my desk.  
"Ben?" she asked, "are you alright?"  
"Don't.. like... blood..." got out through my arms folded under my head.  
"Are you feeling faint?" she asked.  
"Yes, ma'am," I replied weakly.  
"Why don't you go to the nurse?' she said sympathetically. "Can you make it there on your own?"  
"I'll go with him," piped up Mickie, and I held my breath as we made our careful way out of the classroom. We got halfway from building two, to the edge of the parking lot, when my stomach began to turn and I needed to sit down.  
"Hold on," I said, sitting beside the closest building and putting my head between my knees.  
"Are you alright?" she asked. "Do you want me to get someone?"  
"No," I sort of moaned, "I'm fine..."  
"You're green," she said back. "Maybe I-"  
"What happened?"  
Oh no... I knew that voice.  
"Mrs. Banner brought out the blood tying kits," explained Mickie, "and he just put his head down and didn't move. I think he fainted."  
"I didn't faint," I said defiantly, "I'm fine. Just go away!"  
She giggled. She actually giggled. It was almost enough for me to open my eyes and look up, but I was afraid if I did, the sidewalk would be privy to what I had for lunch.  
"Come on," she said, much closer, and the next thing I knew, I was on my feet. Her shoulder under my arm, and her arm across my back.  
"What are you doing?" I protested. "Stop it!"  
"If you'd prefer," she whispered, "I could just carry you."  
I kept my mouth shut.  
"Hey," Mickie complained, "I was supposed to-"  
But we moved away without another comment.  
"Really," I said, "I can walk on my own."  
"Do you really want to risk another head injury so soon?" she chided playfully. "Your masculinity is intact. But do you really faint at the sight of blood?"  
"And the smell," I said. "But I didn't faint. I just got... woozy..."  
We made it through the office with the help of the office attendant and into the nurse's office. I decided that it was in my best interest to lie down on the provided faux leather bed, shut my trap, and breathe while Edwina aptly maneuvered herself into watching over me, rather than returning to class, while the nurse went to retrieve an ice pack.  
"Alright," I said, "you were right."  
"You?" she said, her tone admonishing, "Making a concession? Shall I call Guinness?"  
I rolled my eyes, "Fine. You were wrong, and you always will be."  
"Your banter is endearing," she said alluringly, "but I really would like to know what you thought I was right about."  
"Why?" I asked, a bit petulantly. "So you can lord it over me?"  
"Whether or not I am actually right is incidental," she said quickly, "though usually true. What I was interested in is what you thought."  
I couldn't rightly argue with that, though I was tempted to remain silent just so she would keep talking.  
"Going to class was a bad idea," I said. She laughed. It made admitting I was wrong totally worth it.  
The nurse came back with the ice pack, and the coolness of it was very soothing, but I was starting to feel better, or at least not so completely nauseated.  
"You really don't have to wait for me, you know," I said after a minute, sitting up.  
She smiled crookedly, "I am quite aware of what my choices are."  
"I'm just saying," I said, "I'm sure that there are other things you would rather be doing."  
"You're so sure?" she asked challengingly, which caught me by surprise. I narrowed my eyes at her.  
"You're telling me," I said, "that of all the things that it would be possible to be doing right now, you would rather be sitting in this dinghy nurse's office, watching me melt an ice pack on my head and babble semi-coherently?"  
For a moment, she seemed to think about my words seriously. She looked momentarily elated by what she thought about, then she looked nearly so wistful that I thought about moving closer to her and demanding what had her looking so bereft. Finally, she smiled again.  
"In the realm of infinite possibility," she said, "only so many things are really likely enough to happen. Of those things, the ones that involve me at school, acting in a socially acceptable manner, and not taking away others' rights to make their own decisions, my option are very, very limited. Of those options, this is right at the top of the list."  
"So," I asked sarcastically, "I'm just keeping you from boredom?"  
"It's true," she said, "Things are far more interesting when you're around. But, from what your question implies, no; you're keeping me from some many other things."  
I don't get a chance to ask what she means. I was opening my mouth to inquire when the door opened again, and the attendant was carrying in a nearly unconscious Brenda Chaney with Mickie in tow. I don't need the smear of red on her finger to tell me why she is here and why I need to leave.  
"Oh no," said Edwina, "Ben-" but I was up and fully prepared to follow her lead. She ushered me out before her, not needing to speak. Once in the office, we sat in the chairs there, and I reapplied the ice pack.  
I was sitting there a long moment before I realized that she was still and silent.  
"Hey," I said, about to reach out to make sure she was okay when she turned and looked at me.  
"Why did you do that?" she asked.  
"Do what?" I asked back.  
"Leave the office just now," she clarified.  
"Oh," I said. "Brenda was still bleeding. The smell would get to me just as quickly as the sight."  
"You can smell blood?" she asked, sounding disbelieving.  
"Yeah," I said. "It smells like it tastes. Salty and coppery. Ugh."  
Before she could comment further, Mickie walked back out of the nurse's office.  
"You two look cozy," she said, sounding almost accusatory, then she turned to me and said, "Are you coming back to class?"  
"No," I said. "People will still be bleeding."  
It was obvious from her expression that she hadn't thought of that and felt rather silly.  
Mickie looked back at me, "Are you still going tomorrow?"  
Her eyes involuntarily flicked over to Edwina.  
"I'm still planning on it," I said.  
"We're meeting in front of my parents' store," she said reluctantly. "Around ten."  
"I'll be there," I said.  
"See you in Gym," she said, then she slunk away, muttering under her breath.  
I sighed heavily, "Gym... Great."  
"What's wrong with Gym?" asked Edwina, sounding very eager all of a sudden.  
I closed my eyes, "Not exactly my favorites subject."  
"Ah," she said. "I think I have a solution. Stay as you are."  
I heard her stand from her chair, then her voice came from the desk.  
"Mr. Cope," she said, her voice a bit higher than usual. "I don't mean to bother you, but Ben has Gym next period, and I really don't think he's going to be up for it. Is there any way you could please excuse him from class? I wouldn't mind driving him home."  
There was a rustle of paper, and Mr. Cope stammered, "Uh, not at all, Ms. Cullen. Not at all. You will need an excuse too, won't you?"  
"I'm sorry," she said in very believable discomfort. "If you wouldn't mind..."  
"Certainly," he said. "Would you like some help getting him to the car?"  
"That's very kind, but I got him here alright," she said very pleasantly. "I should be able to get him to the parking lot without trouble."  
"Alright," he said. "I've made the appropriate notations. Feel better there, son."  
I opened my eyes and walked out with Edwina, dropping the ice pack in the first available trash can.  
"Thanks," I said. "This whole experience has been so lousy, but it's worth it if only to miss Gym."  
She looked over at me, and asked in a quiet voice, "Has it been so bad?"  
I thought about the whole thing and surmised that it hasn't been nearly so bad.  
"Well," I said, "I guess not."  
I started heading for my truck.  
"Where are you going?" she asked, her voice confused but also distressed.  
"Um, home," I said, waving towards my truck.  
She frowned, "But if we take your truck, how will I get back here?"  
"Oh," I said. "Uh... You were serious about driving me home? You don't have to."  
Her frown deepened, "Did it ever occur to you that I might actually want to drive you home?"  
It hadn't.  
"But, why?" I asked.  
A smile crossed her face, real and full, the exact expression she wore this morning when she first surprised me.  
"Because," she said, "of the possible activities I have before me, there's nothing I'd rather do than be with you."  
"Oh," I said again, in the exact same tone. She stepped sideways, moving toward the silver car I saw her in before. It was starting to drizzle, and I hurried, not wanting to be wet. She slipped into the car, unlocking the door for me, and as I sat, I noticed that she was readjusting the seat, shifting it upright from a reclined position. Starting the car, she pulled out and began to drive.  
"Tell me something," she whispered, and I looked over at her.  
"What?" I asked for clarity.  
"No," she laughed, "tell me something. Tell me about yourself."  
"Okay," I said, too enraptured with watching her expression, the smooth alterations every movement made to her face, to be particularly imaginative.  
"What do you want to know?" I asked.  
"What's your family like?" she asked.  
I nodded, "My parents married very young, not even out of high school young. My dad was sort of outlandish and free with his emotion and my mother was down to earth and sort of distant. Eventually, my dad decided that he wasn't satisfied in Forks, they divorced and he moved away. They had me visit back and forth until I started school, then I stayed with my mom until about ten years ago, when I decided that I liked living with my dad more than my mom. I've lived here, California, and Arizona, but mostly in Phoenix. My dad loves his sun, and I can appreciate the warmer climate."  
"And your mother?" she asked.  
"Carrie is sort of..." I said, "simplistic. She knows what she likes and sticks with it. I can relate to that, but I guess I don't know what I'm like yet. I'm still trying to figure that out. Anyway, what about you? What are your parents like?"  
This time when she slowed to a stop, she took her hands of the wheeled and turned off the car. I looked up to see that we were already at my home, faster than I had ever driven there from school, without me giving her any indication of where I lived. Before I could ask, she was speaking.  
"My parents died quite some time ago," she said, her voice full of a pain that had since healed. "My new parents are two of the best people, better than I reasonably could have imagined. They love me and care about, often better than I think I deserve."  
"Everyone deserves love," I said, sounding really defensive for some reason.  
She looked over at me, her expression twisting, "People do some truly heinous, horrific things to one another."  
I nodded, "True, and that doesn't mean they don't deserve love. I can't love everybody because I'm just as imperfect, but they still deserve it. There isn't such a thing as being unworthy of love."  
She looked away from me. I could see something in her expression, some resistance that I couldn't understand. I had a sudden had the urge to take her hand in both of mine, to stare desperately into her face, and affirm adamantly that she deserved love, but I was afraid. I didn't know how she would respond, and the idea that she might reject both my overture and my touch was nearly as painful as the idea that she didn't believe that she deserve to be cared about, to be happy. I settled for changing the subject.  
"What about your other family?" I asked. "What are your siblings like?"  
Her smile returned, and I felt something inside me ease.  
"My brothers and sisters would like very much not to have to wait in the rain for their ride," she commented.  
I guessed that meant her.  
"Right," I said, preparing to leave and realizing just how much I didn't want our time to be over. How I could have thought to drive home and cut our time short before was beyond me.  
"What about my truck?" I asked, realizing that I hadn't considered that point until now. What was wrong with me.  
"I'll make sure it is returned before your mother gets home," she said. "She'll have no reason to question you about its absence."  
"Okay," I said, relaxing. I dug around in my pocket to pull out my key for her while I dug around for excuses to stay where I was seated.  
"Will you be there tomorrow?" I asked, wanting to know when I would see her again.  
Her smile once again was lovely.  
"I wasn't invited," she said simply.  
I felt like arguing, "But I want you to come."  
She smiled wider, "Mickie wasn't at all happy with me showing up today and taking care of you. If I showed up tomorrow, I don't think she could stand it."  
I could have been wrong, but from her smile, I got the impression that she liked that idea.  
"Where are you going, anyway?" she asked.  
"First Beach in Le Push," I said, hoping she'd show up anyway.  
She smiled, a little sadly, "Alas, it is not meant to be. I do, in fact, have my own plans with Emily tomorrow. She wants to go camping, and I have agreed to accompany her."  
Somehow, the idea of her in the woods was fitting, but I had no idea why. I would have thought that someone so... tidy and upper class would seem more at home...well, at home, but it seemed to fit. Maybe it was me I couldn't imagine outdoors.  
"I'm sure you can imagine having plans getting in the way of other peoples' desired Saturday activities," she said, her tone full of teasing implications.  
I remembered all those girls inviting me to that silly dance.  
"Don't remind me," I grimaced. She tried very hard not to let me see that she was laughing.  
Quickly, she turned back to me.  
"Would you have turned me down?" she asked.  
I opened my mouth to speak, but for a moment, no words came out.  
"Considering at the time," I said, "you were doing everything you could to ignore me, probably. Now, I don't know. I am really not a dance sort of person."  
She seemed to consider that.  
"Now," I said, "as much as I would prefer otherwise, I really should let you go. I don't have any siblings, but I'm sure that having them mad at you isn't fun."  
She laughed loudly, especially after the current quiet.  
"No," she said. "It isn't."  
I felt like doing something, but I wasn't sure what that was. I turned, about to exit the car with a brief thank you and a goodbye, but she interrupted.  
"Could you do something for me?" she asked, rather abruptly.  
"Perhaps," I said, unsure.  
"As much as I would like to watch your face should I ask you this jokingly," she said, "I would much rather ask you it earnestly, in hopes that that you'll consider it seriously."  
She turned towards me, an expression on her face that I could only describe as discomfiture, pleading, desperation.  
"Please," she very nearly begged, "don't do anything overtly dangerous on your trip. I would be... unhappy... should you injure yourself this weekend."  
I prepared my retort, but she went on.  
"Please," she said again, looking like she wanted to say a whole lot more. "Be safe. For me."  
"Alright," I said, a bit breathlessly. "I'll try to be safe."  
"Thank you," she said.  
We didn't say goodbye. I certainly didn't want to, and I could tell she didn't either. I dashed to the porch, nearly falling, but catching myself and turning back, watching her. I couldn't see her through the heavier rain, but I settled for staring at where I knew she was. What was happening here?  
She finally turned and drove away.


	7. Chapter 7: Scary Stories

The next day, I awoke relatively early. I had about an hour before I needed to leave, but that wasn't enough time get started doing homework, so I decided on housework. I was overdue on laundry.  
As I was filling the wash Carrie appeared, decked out in fishing apparel, her usual weekend activity.  
"Hey kid," she smiled. "Beach today?"  
"Yep," I affirmed. "Fishing?"  
"Skydiving," she said, completely deadpan.  
I just stared.  
"My usual crew passed," she said, snickering, "so I am going to be closer to home. Are you going to be back for dinner? Because I might not be."  
"I got it, mom," I said. "I don't know how long it will be, but I'll be home before curfew. Oh, I'm planning on driving up to Seattle next Saturday."  
"What about the dance?" she asked without missing a beat.  
I occupied myself with pulling laundry detergent to hide my scowl.  
"I don't dance," I said, aiming for not morose and landing some near inflectionless.  
"You didn't ask anyone?" she asked.  
If she was going to ask, I was going to answer.  
"No," I said brusquely, "I didn't, nor would I if it hadn't been girls choice."  
"But why?" she pressed.  
"Mom," I complained. "Why is now the time you choose to pry? I told you, I'm not dating. I don't dance, and I don't go to dances. I wouldn't, even if I was dating."  
"I'm just asking," she said in the tone that all mothers seem to be gifted with at birth. My birth, not hers. "I can ask. You don't need to get all disgruntled."  
"I am not disgruntled!" I said in a tone that just about anyone other than me may or may not call disgruntle.  
Her eyes went wide, then knowing.  
"Oh," she said. "Okay. I see."  
"What?" I asked, my voice going up an octave. "You see what?"  
"Oh nothing," she said, her knowing expression deepening. "Nothing at all."  
"Mom!" I invariably whined.  
"I'll see you later, Benny," she said, her tone utterly patronizing.  
The front door closed and I slammed the wash door with a huff.  
After the laundry was running, I tidied my room, which ninety percent was already done by picking up clothes, and the rest was finished with some light shuffling around of book bags and bedding before deciding I could vacuum. Finally, I put on some layers I could take off If I got warm, since the forecast called for some sun, and headed for my truck.  
It had been returned the day before, just as Edwina had said it would, with the keys in it. I realized that she had been the only person other than me to have driven my truck since I had gotten it, which seemed like it should have been a big deal, especially since I wasn't there to make sure she didn't wreck it. Though, once I had thought about it, I realized that I really didn't mind at all.  
I found Newton Outdoor Outfitters easily enough; it was just off the highway. I found that the group was already forming up once I had got there. Lauren, Angelo, Taylor, and Jesse were already there when I pulled up, and Mickie and Brenda made it there short thereafter. There were more than enough for us to need to take the van that Mickie had borrowed from her parents. Taylor had arrived in her new Jeta since her parents had to sell her old van for parts. My truck was fine. The dent in the back panel was barely noticeable.  
"Come sit up front," Mickie said.  
I smiled, glancing at Jesse. The resentment was obvious as he tried to look away.  
"Sorry, Mickie," I said pleasantly. "Jesse called shotgun before you got here."  
"He did?" asked Lauren.  
"Oh," said Mickie disappointedly. "Oh, but we weren't all here yet. That doesn't count."  
The discomfort on my face wasn't entirely faked, "I don't want to be rude. Maybe I'll get it on the way back or something."  
As we all moved to the van, Jesse whispered, "You didn't need to do that."  
"Do what?" I asked. "You didn't call shotgun?"  
He tried not to look pleased. Unfortunately, that left me stuck between Lauren and Taylor. I kept my mouth shut, wishing I could of at least sat next to Angelo.  
The drive wasn't long, and soon we had parked and unloaded. I wished I could have brought something, but when I called Mickie the night before, she insisted that I bring nothing, saying she and her mom loved putting picnics together for her friends. Eventually, I agreed, and now I was glad. The food she brought out was obviously put together by people who owned an outdoors store and enjoyed the outdoors more than most of the people who came into their business. It was neatly organized, everything put together with a methodical structure for ease of distribution and eating, everything looking and tasting great. Anything I could have brought would have paled in comparison to what they had supplied.  
After we had set up a spot on the beach and eaten a few snacks, a few people brought out a Frisbee and others sort of generally played, running up and down the beach. Soon, it is just Angelo and me, sitting watching the others.  
For a moment, I was inclined to say something, make some small talk, but as time passed, it became clear that we were both comfortable just sitting together, not needing to speak if nothing needed to be said. I was thinking of getting up and going for a walk when he said, "I saw you sitting with Edwina Cullen yesterday at lunch."  
He didn't say it as though he were digging for gossip; he seemed interested if anything, and the fact that he waited until the others weren't really in earshot spoke volumes.  
"Yeah," I said. "She invited me over, so I sat with her."  
"She doesn't do that very often," he said. I got the feeling that this was a bit of an understatement.  
"Yes," I agreed. "She has been acting a bit strangely."  
He nodded, "I wonder why that is."  
I shrugged, smiling, "If you figure that out, please, please let me know."  
"She could just like you," he said.  
I felt rather flummoxed, "What? No... she could... I... What?"  
He laughed, but it was a good-natured thing, "I saw you yesterday. You two were pretty locked in together. If it had been a date, from where I was sitting, it looked as though it went rather well."  
I didn't respond. I didn't need to. I didn't need to justify my position or explain or theorize or validate or anything. After a couple of seconds, Angelo stood, brushed sand off his pants and asked, "Have you seen a driftwood fire?"  
"No," I said, standing myself.  
"We'll wait until it's closer to dusk, that way you can get the full effect," he said. "What would you like to do now?"  
Jesse and Mickie joined us, and we hiked up to the tidal pools, basins of rock and sand that are cut off from the ocean by the tides, filled with their own miniature ecosystem. I could watch them for hours, trying to discover all the little animals and watch them going about their daily routines, but even Angelo could only show so much interest. Luckily, my first fall was still when he was around, and he steadied me before I could do more than bloody my knee. Unluckily, the second fall comes after the others had already headed back. Aside from being a bit wet, I wasn't badly hurt. It was just a few scratches and a cut on my forearm. By the time I made it back, they were about to start the fire.  
"They were impatient," explained Angelo with a laugh.  
"Are you alright?" asked Jesse, seeing how wet I was and catching the tears in my shirt.  
"I'm fine," I said, rolling the tattered sleeve up to show him. "I'm not even bleeding anymore."  
Mickie dug around and found a first aid kit. A dollop of antiseptic and large band-aid later, I was sitting before a blue fire with a towel around my shoulders.  
"Generally," said a boy I didn't recognize, "you're only supposed to go in the water if you have your bathing suit on."  
I looked around and realized that about a half dozen other people have joined our little group, locals from the Le Push Reservation. Some were noticeably older, like nearly ten years older, but one of them, a younger girl, tall and rail tie thin, caught my attention and looked familiar.  
"Do I know you?" I asked, and half of my friends fell quiet.  
She smiled broadly, "Yeah. You bought a certain truck off of my mom."  
I blinked, "You're Belinda's daughter. Jay-something."  
She looked rather pleased, "Not bad! You probably remember my older brothers, though, Rob and Randell."  
"Barely," I said. "It's been... what, seven years?"  
"Eight," she said, "but who's counting?"  
She sort of timidly came over, crossing around the fire, "Can I sit here?"  
She faced a spot next to me.  
"Sure," I said, scooting to make room. She had a loping step, and given her height and weight, my guess was she was on the tail end of a massive growth spurt that the rest of her body hadn't caught up to. But now that she was closer and I could easily see her, I was starting to remember her more clearly.  
"Jocelyn," I said.  
"Not bad," she said again. Her voice was rough but still sounded a bit younger than fifteen, if I remembered correctly.  
"How's Belinda?" I asked.  
"She's doing good," she said. "Still rolling around."  
I heard about the car accident that had killed her dad and put her mother in a wheelchair. It happened around the last time I saw them, maybe shortly after.  
"So," she said, "what's it like being back? It's gotta be weird."  
"It might be," I said, "but I'm not sure if it would be weirder if things actually changed around town or not."  
She laughed, "You're telling me. Do you know how long my family's had that truck? Neither do we!"  
I laughed, "My truck, older than bloodlines, stretching back, so old those who knew its lineage have long since passed."  
She laughed too.  
"It runs great," she said. "I loved working on it, but I just didn't want to have to keep it, you know? I didn't want to be stuck with it, not have a choice."  
"Then I'm glad I could help you out," I said.  
"Hey Ben," Lauren belted out, and from his tone, I could tell that what he had to say wasn't going to be enjoyable.  
"I was just wondering," he said, his voice snide as he sat beside Taylor, "why someone didn't think to invite any of the Cullens on our picnic. Maybe someone should have asked them."  
"The Cullens don't come here."  
The voice that boomed across the flames was authoritative and deep, silencing most conversation in the area. I looked over to see a young woman, easily the oldest one here, looking to be in her early to mid-twenties. She was tall, more than six feet, and broad, muscular and wearing less protection against the cooler winds blowing off the waves before us. She had two other women with her, standing with her like guards or something, similarly in dress and appearance. Something about it struck me as odd but significant. After an additional beat or two of silence, the talking resumed, and I turned my gaze back to Jocelyn.  
"What was that about?" I asked.  
"Oh," she said dismissively, but covertly. "That's just Sam. She runs with a weird crowd that buys into our legends a bit more than most. She didn't mean anything by it."  
"Okay," I said, "but what does that have to do with the Cullens?"  
She looked uncomfortable, and cast her eyes around at everyone near us, "That's just some old superstition."  
Jocelyn knew something. I could tell. There was something going on here, something that might shed some light on Edwina.  
I got an idea.  
I stood, ditching my towel and holding out a hand to Jocelyn.  
"Come walk with me," I said.  
She excitedly took my hand and stood, and we started walking down the beach.  
"Here," she said, and we found a large driftwood log, which we leaned up against, the night just starting to encroach around us.  
"So tell me," I said, now that we had the beach to ourselves.  
"I don't know," she said, sounding uneasy still. "I don't want you thinking we are a bunch of bass-ackwards natives."  
I don't know why, but I knew that I was close to something. The way Sam said the words she did was like... like she was a parent, doling out an edict that needed to be followed for our own good, without argument. It was so defensive, it sort of reminded me of Edwina, doing something for my own good without really telling me why. I didn't like it. I wanted answers.  
"Please, Jocelyn," I said, trying to be persuasive. "Please, just tell me."  
Her eyes went wide, her mouth falling open a little. She made up her mind and said, "Sure, sure. But don't call me Jocelyn. Call me Josie. It feels so formal, so girly."  
I looked at her skeptically, "What, and Josie isn't girly?"  
She smiled back at me, challengingly, "Don't start on my name, Benny."  
I shut up. She barked a laugh.  
"Okay," I said, "so tell me. What's this superstition?"  
She squinted, thinking, "It isn't a superstition so much as a scary story."  
"A scary story?" I said, making my voice low, playing along with the shift in tone the conversation was taking.  
"Have you heard any of our legends?" she asked. "The legends of the Quileutes?"  
"No," I said, interested in spite of myself.  
"There are older stories," she said, her own light, "that say we were once amazonian spirit warriors. Then there are more recent stories, stories about our protectors, sacred wolves. It is illegal to attack wolves anywhere on the reservation. Then there are other stories, stories about the natural enemies of the wolves, stories about the cold ones."  
Suddenly, that day returned to me, that day in Biology, reaching for the microscope, her touch on my hand, the shock of it, but something I hadn't really noticed over the intensity; the cold.  
The coldness of her, against me, under and above me, that day she saved me.  
"Cold ones?" I asked, sounding awed and nervous.  
"Yeah," she said, starting to ham it up in response to my reaction. "You might call them... vampires."  
I stilled, staring at her, "...vampires?"  
She snorted a laugh, "Yeah. They were our enemies for many, many years, but three generations ago, a group of them came on to our lands who said they weren't interested in killing humans. They said they wanted peace between us, so we worked out a treaty with them. They were to stay off our lands, just in case they couldn't control themselves, and neither of us would reveal the others' existence to the white folk."  
She snickered, poking me. I was still. I was trying to make sense of this; how long ago was three generations?  
"So," I said, my voice croaking, "The Cullens are cold ones, like the ones in your story?"  
"No," she said ominously. "They are the same ones."


	8. Chapter 8: Nightmares

I didn't really remember what happened the rest of the night. I remembered a few vague details and a few random specific ones, but mostly, I was just disconnected from it all.

I didn't feel like I was unaware or functioning on some mindless autopilot. I felt like I just wasn't taking anything in or responding unless I absolutely had to.

The fire was neat watch. I couldn't recall if I explored more. Josie tried to keep my attention and talked about maybe coming to visit Forks sometime, and I don't remember if I even acknowledged her. Lauren was a jerk, but that was normal. I rode back with Mickie, though I didn't recall where I sat. I found myself sitting in my truck, outside of my empty house, trying to get a grip on the here and now.

I went up to my room, not bothering to turn on a single light. I sat in the dark for what seemed like an hour before I finally turned my computer on. After the fifteen and a half million years it took for the old modem to get online, I began searching for a website on vampires.

As it turns out, search Real Vampires gets you a lot of obviously not real vampires. It took some time and some tries, some subtracting of key phrases, until I found a website that suited my purposes. After ready a few dozen of the entries, I was starting to think that Josie was wrong. All the entries just sort of explained things like cultural phenomenon, infidelity, unusual illnesses, and extraordinary events. In many cases, someone could have easily said angels or werewolves or monsters or ghosts and it would have been just as plausible. I needed to get out of my head, away from the familiar. Where could I go? What could I do?

I walked out of the house. Just off the yard was the woods, a path that had been warn over who knew how long a period of time, leading to somewhere. The sky was rather cloudless since the day had been warm and a bit sunny. I could see by the light of the stars. I followed the path.

The night was still, but the forest rustled with living things, in the trees, in the brush. I walked until I couldn't see a single house, not one light. There was no evidence of humans anywhere. I looked down at the path. Almost no evidence. I stepped off the path, walking through a layer of trees, and sat in the darkness and greenery.

Edwina was a vampire. I knew that it had to be true. I also knew that it was impossible. But, the things she could do and her saying it was dangerous for me to be friends with her... It made sense, in a way that felt real, like truth. I couldn't argue that what she was wrong. All things considered, she had looked as though she was going to kill me that first day. She had been trying to stay away from me, hadn't she? She had treated me like a pariah after the accident, and even though she had told me that it was for my own good, I hadn't understood that she had been right. No; it was more than that. I didn't want her to be right. I didn't want to stay away from her. Even with this large and very concrete reason that she didn't want me to know, because she believed that if I figured it out that I would stay away from her, did I want to stay away? Any logical, sane person should stay away from her. But could I?

I thought of what not having her in my life would be. For one, I'd be dead. The accident aside, even with all the rejection and fear she had caused so far in my life, those things were nothing to how much I had enjoyed our single day of friendship. And, if I was really honest with myself, I wanted more. I couldn't, wouldn't let myself think exactly how far I would want our relationship to go, even if it could, because I knew that it wasn't up to me; she might decide to do the right thing again.

But didn't that mean I had my answer? If I had a choice, honestly, I would like to be having this conversation with her, this very minute. Somehow, not having her number or any way to contact her seemed an almost unforgivable oversight. I wanted her...

I felt myself go stiff. I had meant to think that I wanted her here, but I hadn't finished the thought and still found it to be true. I wanted her. But I couldn't have her. I couldn't, could I? Even if she truly wasn't a vampire, she very obviously was something more than simply human. Low income, lower class, inexperienced, clumsy, bookworm types with no idea who they are or what they want to do in life could never be with perfect, idyllic, powerful, amazing, awe-inspiring, nearly mythical creatures like her. Even if she willing consented to standing beside me, it could never work. In the Venn Diagram that was us, there was no overlap.

I got up. I was tired and this wasn't helping. I found the path, after three tries, and got home to find the house was still empty. I went upstairs, showered, put on some sweats and climbed into bed. I was expecting to be lying awake for hours, but fell asleep responsibly directly.

That night was filled with uneasy dreams. In one, I was on the beach with Josie. We were talking and enjoying the sun, then she grabbed my arm and tried to drag me though the trees, saying we had to run. Something seemed to be stalking us that I could not see, and she finally pushed me behind a tree to hide me, staying on the beach side of the tree line. But as I looked around, I saw Edwina there amongst the trees, smiling with long tipped fangs. I smiled back, welcoming until a wolf came tearing through the tree line behind me, racing straight for her, snarling and snapping.

"No!" I found myself screaming. "Don't hurt her!"

Finally, the dreams melted away into relaxed sleep. She was there, everywhere I went. The parking lot, the halls, outdoors, every class, not just Biology. She was in my truck, in my kitchen, my living room, my room. I wanted her so desperately, it hurt. Then I was in Phoenix, and she was there too. Everything seemed fine until we walked outside, which struck me was very strange until I remember that vampires couldn't be out during the day, and she was suddenly engulfed in flames.

I sat up in bed. It was still black with early morning. I curled my knees to my chest and hid my face and cried. I couldn't stand the idea of her in pain. I couldn't stand the idea of us being apart. It didn't matter what she was, or what the risks were. I wanted to be with her this very minute. After crying myself out, I rolled over and went back to sleep.

The next morning, I awoke, feeling far more rested than I usually did when I had nightmares. I got up, deciding that I needed a break. I did all my homework, finished up my laundry, cleaned my room thoroughly and the bathroom to boot. Carrie found me before letting me know she was going to go fish again, apologizing for it being so late the night before. I said that it was nothing and wished her a good time fishing.

I decided that it was too nice a day to be inside the whole day. Considering it was Forks, my options were very limited. I settled on yard work.

It turned out mowing the lawn when I'd never done it before was harder than I thought. It took more trial and error than I would normally put up with to figure out what to hold and what to push and what to pull and when in order to get a mower started. Then, after getting it two feet into the yard, the mower quit working all together and it took me nearly half an hour of trying more things before I managed to think to check the gas tank, which was empty. I tracked down a can in the shed where I found the mower and refilled it. After that, I had it going just fine, until the first rock.

After clearing the yard of rocks and wondering how it was even possible for so many rocks got in the yard since the last time anyone mowed, everything went smoothly. Two water breaks and three more hidden rock later, I had the lawn completely finished. Packing everything away, I went inside, cleaned myself up, and got started on dinner.

I had everything on the table when Carrie walked in. She stared at me for a long moment.

"What did you do?" she asked.

I frowned at her, "Huh?"

"You mowed the lawn," she said, moving to wrap her fish and drop them in the freezer, "which is something I haven't done since summer. You cleaned the entire upstairs. Now I come home and supper is ready and on the table. If you didn't do anything, what do you want?"

"Nothing," I said, exasperated. "I just didn't have much to do today. I got... bored."

Even I don't believe me. What am I supposed to say? Sorry, mom; I have had a lot on my mind, what with the girl I like possibly being a horror movie monster and me trying to decide of its worth risk my life- urgh! Even in my own head, it sounded crazy!

"Bored?" she asked skeptically.

"Yes," I said.

She looked at me again, looking carefully, then her eyes got wide and she said, "Oh."

"'Oh'?" I asked, not trusting that at all. "Oh what? What oh?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. "Nothing at all."

"Mom!" I drawled out, exasperation returning.

She finished with putting fish and gear away, "It's not my place."

"What's not your place?" I asked, aghast. "What do you think is going on?"

She sat at the table and plated some of the fish I had cooked from one of her previous trips, then she looked directly into my eyes and asked, "What's her name?"

My face went utterly blank.

"Who's name?" I asked, maybe a bit squeakily.

"See?" she said. "Not of my place."

I ate in silence. Mom glanced at me here and there but didn't say anything. I was putting away dishes and she said, "No, I've got the dishes. You've done enough."

I nodded and headed for the stairs.

"Benji," she said. I came up short and slowly turned around.

"Look," she said. "I'm no good at any of this. Talking about feelings and stuff, that was always your dad's area. But you know, if you need to talk, we can talk. I'm not going to be good at it, but I can try."

"Okay," I said. "I know. Thanks, mom."


	9. Chapter 9: Port Angeles

The next three days were the worst I had experienced since coming to Washington. I didn't really understand just how much I wanted to see Edwina again until she wasn't there. None of the Cullens were. Their table at lunch and the chair beside me in Biology remained empty, and each day was worse. By Wednesday, I was convinced that they had somehow found out about me, that I knew what they might be.

Those days weren't without their share of interesting tidbits, even if they had little to do with me. Monday, Jesse asked if I wanted to drive out to Port Angeles on Tuesday to go to the movies, and I agreed, even after I heard Lauren would be coming. I had to fill up my time or I was going to go crazy. Mickie tried to ask me out Tuesday morning. I told her that I couldn't because one of my friends was interested in her. I tried to be subtle, but I had to drop a few hints before she got it. They ended up going out Tuesday evening, which meant that our movie plans were canceled and moved to Wednesday.

Finally, Wednesday rolled around, and still no Cullens. I was about to start asking around to make sure that they actually existed. I was actually looking forward to the night in Port Angeles. I was going to swing by a bookstore while the guys picked up their tuxes for the dance that Saturday, then we were going to meet at the theater. I was considering seeing if they had any books on vampirism but decided that the idea was stupid because anything in a book that specialized I could find online for free and have it be just as relevant.

Jesse offered to drive, so we all loaded into his car, Lauren calling shotgun, to which Angelo and I exchanged a thankful glance. Neither of us was particularly interested in sharing a back seat with him all the way there. While the two upfront fairly jabbered along about the music they were playing too loud for them to really hear us, Angelo and I chatted about this and that, until finally, I got up the courage to ask, "Do you know if the Cullens have left or something?"

No one up front heard us, thankfully.

"No," said Angelo, catching on to the conspiratorial nature of the conversation. "But they disappear just about any time the weather is nice. Hiking and camping and all that. I've seen them in at the Newtons' store. I swear, they owe like have their annual revenue to the Cullens."

I nodded, "But they're still around? They haven't left or anything?"

"No," he said, not pressing for a single detail, "not that I've heard."

"So," said Lauren, turning down the music. "What's up with you Ben?"

I looked over at him, "Nothing much. How are things going with you, man?"

He looked at me as though he thought I was being obtuse. Already, I was starting to feel defensive.

"Nothing?" he asked. "You have nothing going on? You are nothing?"

"Dude," said Jesse. "Don't be a dick!"

"I'm not being a dick," Lauren said. "I just find it hard to believe that he has nothing going on, that nothing is happening with him, that his life is so insignificant that nothing ever happens to him."

"I never said that Lauren," I said, trying to keep an even head.

"So," he said, "you admit that there is something going on with you?"

"Why don't you tell me what you think is going on?" I asked. I was prepared to refute it, no matter what it was, unless it was something utterly meaningless that I had no problem admitting it.

"You're going to prom with Taylor," he snapped.

I stared at him as though he accused me of being from Venus.

"I'm doing what now?" I asked, equal parts mortified and indignant.

"I told you it wasn't true," said Angelo. "Ben wouldn't do half the things she was talking about."

"'Half the things'?" I gasped and gagged out at the same time. "What things? What half?"

"Stupid things," Jesse said, sounding as though he was coming to my aid. "Things like you were taking a dance class, you were helping her buy her dress from an international designer, you were going to get her flowers from some fancy florist in Seattle, things like that. She also said not to talk to you about because you were embarrassed."

She wasn't wrong about that.

"You guys believed her?" I asked.

"A lot of other people do," said Jesse.

"Wait!" I said loudly. "Wait wait wait! 'Other people'?! How many people did she tell!?"

"About half the school," said Lauren.

"The female half," said Angelo.

"And they told the other half," said Jesse.

"Well, no one told me!" I growled, my voice nearly cracking in my outrage. "Not even Taylor!"

Jesse laughed, and Angelo smiled sheepishly.

"I swear," I said through gritted teeth, "I never knew anything about this. Hell, she almost killed me with her van, the only time I can recall talking to her was when I turned her down for that stupid dance. I don't know where she got the idea that meant we were going to prom, but she didn't get it from me."

I'm not sure if that helped or not, but Lauren didn't speak to me for the rest of the drive up there. Finally, at last, we pulled into Port Angeles.

"Where do you want us to drop you?" asked Jesse. I told him the intersection, and of course, they all knew where it was without my handwritten directions that I copied down from the internet. They dropped me at the desired corner, and I made it as far as the bookstore's parking lot when I realized my mistake. This wasn't the right one. There were a few bookstores in town, and I wanted the more professional looking one. This one looked like one of those new age stores that have large crystals sitting on round mirrors on the counters and smell like sage and incense. I vaguely remembered where the correct store was, but after doubling back twice a block north and south of the street I thought it was, I found that I was thoroughly lost and that it was getting late. I started to try to find my way back to the streets I was supposed to use to get to the movie theater, but I wasn't having much luck. I was about to give up when I turned down a deserted side street and froze.

About halfway down the street, a group of four men was gathered around a girl. They looked relaxed, but something about their hunched posture, their forward leaning was encroaching, threatening. She looked anxious and as though she didn't know how to escape and desperately wanted to. They were freely laughing, in that too loud, too inconsiderate way that I had seen and heard some homeless guys do when they were drunk.

She needed help.

Without thinking, I said loudly, "There you, sis! I've been looking for you."

She looked up, seeing me. Immediately she caught on and seized on the opportunity.

"Hey," she said, and immediately walked away from them. They let her go, looking both irritated and confrontational. I ignored them and offered her my arm. She looped hers through mine.

"Keeping walking," I said, quietly. "Don't look back. I'm Ben."

"Nancy," she said. "Thank you so much. I had no idea how far those assholes were going to go. They seemed friendly enough at first, but they were starting to seem... anyway. I know a neighbor over this way, a friend of my mom's. It's not far."

"No worries," I said. "I'll walk you there."

We made the short trip to the apartment complex in near quiet, both of us looking around without looking like we were looking around. We didn't see anyone else until we got inside and she knocked on a third-floor door and a young woman answered.

"Nancy," she said. "Who's this?"

"This is Ben," she said. "He just stopped a group of guys from doing... something. I don't know. Can I hang out here and call the police?"

"Sure," the woman said, sounding concerned.

"You'll be alright here?" I asked, making no motions towards entering the apartment.

"Yeah," Nancy said. "I'll be fine. You're not staying?"

"No," I said. "My ride is waiting for me. I can't really walk the sixty some odd miles home. If the police need me, I'll give you my name and phone number."

After I had written them down, they gave me directions. I said my goodbyes and left.

I looked at the clock on my phone as I walked out of the building. I wouldn't make the start of the movie, but I could still meet the guys there. The sun had set and I was just turning to head across to a major cross street when I heard it.

"There he is!" someone yelled, and I turned to see the same guys heading this way. I started running. I managed not to fall until I got half a block away. They caught up to me soon after.

They had me, ringed me, and at first, they just made sure I couldn't get away. I wasn't sure what they wanted, but humiliating me and hurting me seemed to be at the top of their list.

I hadn't been in a fight before, a real one, anyway. I had taken karate as a little boy, trying to help with my coordination, but I seemed to get worse about as often as I got better. My dad was really understanding and I wanted to get better, despite the evidence, so the instructors didn't mind me hurting myself, but when a fall gave two other students minor injuries, they asked me not to come back.

I tried to remember what they had told me, how to hit someone, but I knew that I'd just end up hurting myself. Still, I had no choice. I remembered my instructor telling me that slamming someone on the jaw wasn't effective, that I should go for the nose, the eye, or the temple. With a kick, I should go for the stomach, which I doubted I could still get my foot that high, so I should go for the knee of the top of the foot.

I started picking targets, looking to see who might be the most drunk or the most likely to stop fighting. Then I remembered I trick.

"Help," I called loudly, looking down the street like I was talking directly to someone. They all looked. I ran again.

I made it the rest of the way down the block before they caught me on the curb. This time they held me. I was in trouble. Then, I heard a revving car engine heading in my direction. Their grips lightened, just enough for me to put myself free. I stumbled half into the street. I had to make sure the car would stop, but my arms were still under me, trying to break my fall. I staggered forward, towards the path of the car. I was almost in the headlights when tires squealed. I thought they were stopping, but instead, they whipped around me, the car turning with an almost impossible precision, coming to stop after it had turned complete around so that it was now in the far lane with the passenger door closest to me, opening towards me.

"Get in," hissed a low voice. Her voice. Instantly, with a degree of accuracy I never usually had, I was on my feet. I crossed to the car in two strides and was in the car, the door closing, the tires squealing again.

I looked over at her, her beautiful face, marveling at it with every passing streetlight. How could I have ever thought she was of this world?

Her eyes were locked ahead, her mouth shut tight.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

The car took a turn very fast and the tires squealed so loud that I couldn't be sure if I actually heard her hiss or not.

"I..." she said, her voice dropping off, "am fine. I am driving. I am not going to go back there and-"

She looked over at me. Despite the fact that we were speeding through the city streets, I didn't look away from her glorious golden eyes.

"Tell me something," she said.

"What?" I asked, not sure what she was asking for.

"Just talk," she said, looking back to the road. "About anything."

I had no idea what to say. What could I tell her that mattered to her, something she didn't already know.

I frowned, thinking of one I hoped she didn't, "Have you heard of any rumors going around school since the accident?"

She nodded, "All of them. Why?"

I blinked at her, "All of them? Without exception?"

She stopped breathing, then said, "Yes."

"Taylor was lying," I said, so quickly I wasn't sure if I was making any sense. "I never agreed to anything! She made it up! I'm not going to prom with her! I'm not going to prom at all!"

I thought I saw the corner of her mouth quirk up just a little.

"You aren't taking dance lessons then?" she asked quietly.

"Argh!" I said, wishing I had a pillow to scream into.

She turned and slowed, and I realized that we were at the movie theater.

I opened my mouth to ask but realized that was stupid. She could do practically anything. I had no idea what her limits were. This wasn't even all that impressive considering what I had seen her do so far.

I saw Angelo and Jesse waiting outside the theater.

"Just let me out at the curb," I said. "You don't need to-"

But she ignored me and parked. As I got out, she did as well. To my surprise, looped her arm through mine, much as the girl earlier tonight had done. She still seemed to be keeping her distance, though, and I could only feel the crush of leather against the outside of my sweater.

Angelo spotted us first, his expression very surprised as we walked up. He tapped Jesse, whose eyes bugged out of his head a bit when he saw us.

"Hey guys," I said, a bit timidly, but before I could go on, Edwina spoke.

"I'm sorry for holding Ben up," she said sweetly. "I was shopping after getting back today from camping when I got a flat and had to stop in a really bad part of town. Ben saw me and helped me. I insisted on taking him out to dinner to say thank you, but he didn't want to break of his plans with you. Is it alright if I steal him away from you? I will drive him home afterward and everything."

Angelo and Jesse both stared. I wasn't sure what was going on in their heads, but from their expressions, just about everything inside their heads that wasn't necessary for looking and admiring had more or less shut down.

"Sure," said Angelo, after a minute. "Um, we already bought your ticket, though."

I pulled out my cash.

"Get a refund if you can," I said. "If you do, you can get my cash back to me tomorrow."

"Okay," said Angelo, smiling. "Have fun."

"Do you want to see the movie?" asked Jesse her, sounding like he couldn't hold it in any longer.

She smiled, and I did my own staring.

"That's very kind," she said, "but I haven't eaten all day. I really should get something in my stomach or I'm going to pass out."

"Go!" he suddenly commanded, and Angelo smiled, beginning to drag the guy away before he offered to pay for her meal or something.

"Have a good night," he said as we turned and walked back to the car. She kept my arm, even after they were out of sight, but once we got to the door, she let me go. For a moment, she glanced at me, then opened her door with a brisk smile and slid into the car. I walked around to my door and got in.

"Where would you like to eat?" she asked, and I was amazed how different her voice was. Whenever she talked to anyone who wasn't me, she sounded like any other high school girl, even if her voice was the loveliest thing I had ever heard. When she spoke to just me, her voice changed somehow. She sounded mature, almost impossibly confident, yet there was a sort of sadness to her voice as well, one that I was starting to hear less of. I'm not sure how that made me feel exactly, but in any case, I felt gracious and more than a little privileged.

"You don't have to take me-" I started.

She looked at me, hard, and said, "That isn't the name of a restaurant."

I blinked.

"Okay," I sighed, "okay. But I don't know the area at all. Why don't you choose?"

A crease appeared in the perfect skin above her forehead, something like indecision upon her face, but she said, "Alright."

We drove out to an Italian place that was very nearby, and we exited the car. I found myself stepping quickly to cross in front of the car to meet her. I watched as the engrossing and exquisite smile crossed her lips but it soon fell. I wanted to ask her why she looked so crestfallen, but her smile returned, if only to something merely pleasant, as she took my arm as before, her hands gloved. I realized I hadn't noticed if she had been wearing them before. Then I realized that I hadn't noticed what she had ever worn. I tried to recall a single time I had every cared to look at her clothing or bothered to look at what she wore. I couldn't remember a single time, and I had no idea why. I made a mental note to see her clothing the next time I could see her clearly.

We walked into the restaurant that was mostly empty tonight. I greeted the host who spoke to me though smiled at her, his eyes only leaving her when he asked a question. I looked to her when he offered us the table and area of our choosing, and she requested a rather secluded corner table. The host pulled out her chair for her and I felt a pang of intense jealousy as he pushed her chair in for her. She thanked him politely as he placed menus before each of us, and looked to me as I scooted my own chair in.

"What does your expression mean?" she asked.

"Nothing," I said, and I immediately tried to change my face to something more neutral.

She eyes gleamed and she said, "Why won't you tell me?"

"Why does it matter what I am thinking?" I asked in return.

"I want to know," she said just as quickly.

I snorted, "What if I don't want to tell you?"

"Why don't you want to tell me?"

I looked away, "Are you always so intrusive?"

She said nothing for so long, I looked over to see why. She sat there, her expression pensive. She wore a yellow dress, sort of a sundress, the skirt starting from just below the bust. It was silky and sort of hung, kind of artfully draped on her. Over that, she had on a light tan leather jacket and the cream colored gloves. Everything looked expensive.

I returned my eyes to hers. She still looked unsatisfied, but then, she spoke.

"It is easy for me to know what is going on in other people's minds," she said. "It's... I suppose the best term would be a skill that I have. But with you, I can't. I get nothing from you. It's ironic really. There isn't a person in existence whose mind I would want to know more than yours."

I thought about what she was saying and realized more than she was telling me. She wasn't exaggerating. She could know the thoughts of others. It must be how she knew about my dislike for cold, or whoa! She had known about Biology and blood typing. Or, she had said she knew about all the rumors. She was telepathic.

I frowned, "Do you think the reason that you can't read my thoughts might be the same reason you want to know them the most?"

She looked momentarily taken aback, then grinned wryly, "There was a time that might have been the case. But that time is long past."

I was saved from answering by the waiter.

"Hello, I'll be your waiter this evening," he said, more to her than to me. "Anything to drink?"

She looked at me, and I just said, "Soda."

"Which kind of soda?" He asked politely.

"Don't care," I said. He looked at her again. She smiled, "I'll have the same."

He broadened his smile, as though he thought it was funny. His eyes swept over her because hers were on me. I could tell he wanted her. It made me feel a little sick. I was brought up not to objectify women, not to look at them openly or sexually, at the very least without their permission. I guess I was a little jealous because, I wanted to look at her the way they did, the way all guys seemed to. I wanted to bask in her incalculable majesty, look at her with longing, with desire. But I didn't want her because she was beautiful, though she most definitely and undeniably was; I wanted to lust after her because of all the girls I had ever known, she was different. She fought her nature to do what was right. She had cared enough about her existence to see what she was and had decided to do more with it than to simply bow to what she was. She had saved my life, maybe twice. She had spoken to me as though I mattered, and had cared enough about me to ask and look and see me for who I was, unlike the girls around me in school who were evidently only interested in me for what I could do for them. Of all the girls I had ever known, I wanted her.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

I looked up to see that the waiter was gone.

"Um," I said. "I was just thinking that I'm selfish too."

Her eyes sparkled in the low light, "You? Selfish? I find that hard to believe."

I took a deep breath, not sure how to phrase what I wanted to say.

"I don't like how some of the guys look at you," I said. "Well, all of them, really."

She gave me a questioning look.

"How does that make you selfish?" she asked smoothly.

For a moment, I wished she would speak in longer sentences.

"Because," I said, "it doesn't really matter to me."

"It doesn't?" she asked, sounding curious.

I pressed my lips, "Well, it does actually. But that's my point; it doesn't matter. What I mean to say is that I get no say in what other people do, especially when it involves them doing it to other people who aren't me. It doesn't affect me at all if people do or do not leer at you. Me wanting them not to is selfish."

She looked down a moment, thoughtful.

"Does it really bother you so much?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

The words were out before I could consider them, "Would it bother you if girls leered at me?"

She suppressed a laugh, "Who says they don't?"

I came up short. I really hadn't expected that.

"They don't, do they?" I asked.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Imagine if they all did," I said, "with the same intensity and frequency that men do you."

Her smile relaxed as she seemed to slowly settle back in her chair.

"Fair enough," she said.

I smiled, "Would it really bother you so much?"

She was interrupted by the waiter bringing a basket of bread sticks and our drinks.

"Are we ready to order?" he asked.

She looked at me. I ordered the first thing on the entree list.

"Nothing for me," she said.

We handed back our menus.

"Do you eat?" I asked curiously.

Her eyes locked on mine, "Of course."

I smiled, trying to lighten my words, "I've never seen it."

Her face was unsure, almost worried.

"Don't worry," I said. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

"I'm not concerned about that," she said.

I nodded, "I'm not walking away either."

Her eyebrows both raised, "Oh? What makes you so sure?"

I bit my lip, "What makes you so sure I'll leave?"

"If you knew..." she said, her voice dropping away.

"If I knew what you are," I said, "it might not matter to me."

Her eyes met mine, wide, then darted away.

"No," she said. "I can't think about that."

"Why not?" I asked, trying not to sound petulant.

"Because," she said, "as much as I might... want you to be... with me, it wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be right."

I sighed, "You know, as much as you keep telling yourself what you can't have and what you shouldn't want, you could just tell me and trust that it will all work out."

She looked at me, and for the first time, I think I saw her truly scared.

"I can't," she said, her controlled voice at rather stark contrasts with her expression.

I nodded, "I get it. But the thing is, you can't hide the truth forever. Sooner or later, it's going to come out. I'm not exactly stupid over here."

Her smile returned, weakly, "Or unobservant."

"I guess," I said. "I mean, I do notice things from time to time. Like you eating. Or not eating, rather."

"What else have you noticed?" she asked, her curiosity seeming to get the better of her.

"You're telepathic," I said, looking at the bread and deciding to eat some.

She pushed the basket closer towards me, "Please, eat."

I bobbed my head, munching. She didn't reply.

"Am I right?" I asked between bites.

She seemed to hold her breath. So did I.

"I wish you wouldn't," she said.

"Wouldn't what?" I asked.

"Try," she said, "try and figure out what I am."

"Oh," I said. I let the silence become long, then said, "And..."

"And?" she asked.

"And," I said again, "what if I already do?"

"Do what?" she asked quickly, some of that fear showing again around her eyes.

"Know," I said. Her expression was hard to bare, so I added quickly, "I'm not sure, and I don't know all the details, but I have a pretty good idea."

She relaxed ever so slightly.

"Tell me," she said.

I felt suddenly anxious. It was odd, thinking that now that she was asking, I was as reluctant to tell her as she was for me to figure it out. I was more than a little worried that I might actually be going insane. Crazy people didn't know they were crazy, right?

I looked at her hands, folded under her chin.

"Why are you wearing gloves?" I asked. "Are you cold?"

She somehow fought back a smile and looked sad at the same time, taking off the gloves.

"I thought it would be easier," she said.

I was suddenly very tired of all this pretending, all these half truths. I decided to be direct.

"I'm not going to tell you," I said. She looked rather taken aback.

"Look," I went on. "I want to make something clear. I... I like you. But, I'm finding it really hard to accept the fact that you don't trust me."

She stared, quite stunned. I was quiet a long moment, and she was still.

Finally, I said, "I'm sorry. I don't regret what I said, but it's still true. I don't know what's going to happen. But right now, there seems to be only two ways your way can go. Either you don't tell me, and I never figure it out, and not matter what else happens, there will be this wall between us, this distance that will never go away. Do you want that?"

She shook her head, slowly.

"Then," I said, "there is the other. You don't tell me, and I do figure it out, which means you might as well just tell me anyway."

She watched my eyes but said nothing.

"Alright," I said. "Alright. I'm not going to tell you what you should do. Honestly, you might be right that we would be better off if we both walked away right now. But I'm not psychic; I don't know the future. I am not going to tell you what to do. All I know is..."

I paused for the length of a breath. I reached out, slowly, not sure if I was doing something unwise or that she might not want. She froze but did not protest as I gather her wrist and drew her hand into both of mine. Her hand was cold, smooth, almost like polish stone, but with the subtlest, most minuscule give, as though she were not utterly immobile. It felt amazing, so utterly perfect under my hands. Without thinking, I bent low over that hand, and ever so hesitantly, pressed my lips to her hand.

She made some small noise, and though I couldn't gather it's full meaning, there was no protest in it.

I brought my eyes back to hers, and something about her face made me think that if the circumstances were a little different, there might be tears in those eyes.

"All I know is," I said again, "that I'm happier near you. I want you in my life. I want to be near you. I don't know what that means yet, but I want to figure that out."

She withdrew her hand, conflicting emotions playing themselves out on her features. But they quickly formed themselves into something pleasant as the waiter brought out my food, some sort of ravioli. I sipped the soda, which turned out to be coke, and found that I was very thirsty. I drank down the whole thing to the ice before I was finished. She smiled and slid her cup at me.

When I had finished with that, I began eating.

"You have thoroughly dominated the conversation," she said. "Why don't you eat and I'll talk awhile?"

"About what?" I asked between bites.

She nodded, "Myself."

I became very still.

"Eat," she insisted playfully, "or you get nothing."

I hoped she didn't notice that I almost choked as I began wolfing food.

"The secret," she said, "our secret, is not one I could divulge at the moment, even if it was solely my own. We have a drive home ahead of us, and while I think it is unlikely that you will react poorly, I don't want you to be forced into enduring my presence if you no longer wish to and having to find a way to get home. But, I do not wish to tell you. Do not misunderstand me, I want you to know everything about me. Absolutely everything. It isn't that I mistrust you; it is knowing would mean one of two options if the wrong people found out. Neither are options I can tolerate. If a third option was possible, I would tell you as soon as you had the option to leave my company without inconvenience. But it isn't. As it is, I cannot be sure that you would be safe with me."

"How?" I asked. "How can you know how this will all go? Can you see the future too?"

"No," she said, smiling. "I can't."

Something about what she said rang true. She couldn't see it, but...

With a surge of intuition, my mind raced back to us sitting together at lunch last week.

"Alice?" I asked, remembering her beaming at me, openly, almost knowingly...

Her mouth fell open, the first time I had seen her surprise fill her whole face.

"And yet," I said, sipping some more Coke, "here you sit."

She closed her mouth.

She suppressed her smile for as long as she could.

"I know," she intoned, "I know. I can't keep away from you. It was lucky that I found you tonight. I don't want to think of what would have happened if I hadn't."

Her expression became hard, and her face reminded me of the first day, that first day in Biology.

I felt uneasy, more for thinking of what might have been rather than fear of her.

"Why were you here?" I asked.

"I told you," she said, looking sheepish without sounding so. "I can't keep away from you."

Me? Was she really here because of me?

I felt warm and quickly looked away.

"Are you blushing?" she asked, sounding incredulous.

"No!" I protested, feeling redder.

She giggled, and I began eating again with a voraciousness that suggested each ravioli had done me a great personal wrong.

After a moment, she sobered and went on.

"I've never tried so hard to observe a single person before. It wasn't an easy thing, looking for someone I could not hear, knowing that you had separated from your friends and not gone to the store you had said you would be at. And I couldn't get to you or leave my vehicle to find you until later."

"Why?" I asked. She smiled, shook her head, and continued.

"It's hard for me not to rely on my other sense. I have spent so long with it as a part of myself and so universal, I've never needed to hone skills in the event of its absence. But, I've had some practice with it, from the weeks we weren't speaking, so I was able to track you down. Once I had, there was just enough time to get to you."

She looked angry again, and I spoke up, "I'm the only person who's thoughts you don't know?"

She nodded, if a bit stiffly, "Yes."

"How does it work?" I asked eagerly. "Is it like a sense wholly different from your others, or is it like being in someone else's head or what?"

She smiled, her features so pleasant it felt good to see them.

"I can hear others' inner monologue," she explained. "I can almost press into someone's mind, then I can see and hear what they do. The better I know a person, the more familiar they are, the easier it is to pick them out of the general hum."

"Hum?" I asked.

She nodded, "It's like background conversation or white noise, like I can hear everyone's mind, all over the world, but it is so quiet, can't pick anything out. If someone is close enough, I can hear it. I can hear a member of my family maybe a couple of miles away, but with others, not so well."

"So," I said, looking down to see that I was almost done with my meal, "you have to track me by, what, looking in everyone else's mind until you happen to see me?"

She nodded, "Exactly. It takes time. I don't know who might actually see you, and after a while keeping track of so many minds is tedious."

"You can do that?" I asked. "Keep track?"

She nodded, as though considering, then said, "I have perfect recall. I remember everything. My thoughts are faster than... the average persons'."

I nodded, finally finished with my food.

"Do you want to head back?" I asked.

She looked a little sad, "You want to go?"

"No!" I said, overly loud.

"No," I said quieter. "I mean, as much as this food has been nice and all, it might be... easier to talk if we're alone. Like alone, alone. In your car."

She nodded, "Very well."

The waiter appeared as though he had been watching. She paid and we left.


	10. Chapter 10: The Truth

Edwina and I were walking out of the restaurant when she looked over at me and said, "What should we talk about now?"

I thought about it and shrugged. I knew what I wanted to say. I just wasn't sure how she would take it.

Without thinking, as soon as I heard the sound of her door unlocking from her key fob, I reached down and opened her door for her. When I wondered why I did that, I realized that part of me was overcompensating for that host who pushed in her chair for her. Either way, she looked decidedly pleased. As soon as I had closed her door and slipped into mine, she eased smoothly onto the road and we made our way out of town.

The road was dark, and I spent pretty much the entire time looking at her.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked quietly.

"I'm not," I said.

She narrowed her eyes, "You're not?"

"I wasn't really thinking," I said. "I was just looking at you."

"Why are you looking at me?" she asked, even though she sounded pleased.

I took a deep breath, "Because, after tonight, I'm not sure how much of you I'm going to get to see."

She looked stricken, "What makes you say that?"

"Because," I said, wishing to draw it out, but not to draw it out.

"Because?" she asked.

I sighed, "Because you should tell me."

She looked at me, "Tell you what?"

"The truth," I said.

Her expression blanked, "I thought you said you weren't going to pressure me."

"I'm not," I said. "If you don't want to, you won't. But I'm letting you know that you should."

"Why?" she asked, very softly.

"Because," I said, pausing. "Because, you said if I knew, there were only two options for me."

She frowned, which still look beautiful on her, "Yes."

"Then there are only two options for me then," I said.

Her eyes whipped to mine, so fast, I didn't see her head turn. She stared at me so long, I started to worry about her driving off the road, but she steered perfectly.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

I closed my eyes, "I'm not certain, but I am pretty sure."

"Pretty sure?" she asked.

"That I know," I said.

"How could-"

She was suddenly silent.

"Who?" she asked quietly. "Who told you?"

"It wasn't her fault," I said. "She just thought she was telling me some old story. She was explaining why you didn't visit her land, that's all."

She hissed.

I remembered that hiss. It was the same sound she made when we were under the van. It was inhuman, bestial. I shuttered.

"But you know," she said through clenched teeth.

"Yes?" I asked.

"You know that I am a vampire," she said.

Nothing could be heard but the swish of tires on pavement.

I swallowed, "Yes."

She hissed again.

"You've known?" she asked, more accused. "You knew this whole time?"

"Since Saturday," I said.

"Why?" she demanded, her voice high, but almost musical somehow.

"Why what?" I asked, perplexed.

"Why are you here?" she all but screamed. "Why did you agree to spend the evening with me? Why do you sit calmly here beside me, when you know what I am?"

I just looked at her, then said, "I feel safe with you."

She practically roared.

"How?" she retorted. "How can you just sit there and...!? And...?!"

I reached over slowly, carefully, and took her hand in mine.

"It doesn't matter to me what you are," I said.

"No," she said harshly, pulling her hand away.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but the anger that lit her face pierced me. For the first time in my life, I had cared enough to extend myself, to reach, cared enough to actually let myself want. And she said no.

"Are you crying?" she asked, sounding completely appalled.

"No," I said thickly, wiping my face.

She drew a ragged breath, "Don't you see? Can't you understand? I'm a monster. The things I've done... I am damned. And I'd rather be damned three times over again than drag you to hell with me."

"It doesn't matter," I said.

She flinched, "It doesn't..."

"I don't care about the risk," I said. "There is nowhere I want to be more than right here, with you. And right now, I don't know how that could ever change."

I looked out the window watching the speeding trees blow by.

After a long pause, I had to ask, "You're really a vampire?"

She smiled wistfully, "I really am."

"But you don't, you know," I said with some trepidation, "drink humans."

"What makes you say that?" she asked.

"A few things," I said. "It's the reason you made a treaty with the Quileutes, but it's also has something to do with you. You refrain, you keep trying to do the right thing."

"And failing," she said. "If I could succeed, you wouldn't be here now."

I press my lips, "I can't seem to mind."

She snorted delicately.

"So you don't drink blood?" I asked.

"Human blood," she corrected. "Blood is a necessity. We get by on animal blood. It isn't what you might call appealing, but it is far better than going without."

"Will you die without it?" I asked, suddenly afraid at the idea of anything that would hurt her.

"No," she said. "At least, I have never known of any of our kind destroying themselves in that way."

"Good," I said. "What else can you do?"

"I'm sorry?" she asked.

"You are strong and fast," I listed. "You are durable and can read minds. You have perfect recall and a fast brain. What else?"

She looked over at me, inscrutable.

I looked back, "Is it a secret? Will knowing put me at more risk than I already am?"

Pain filled her face, and I wished I had closed my stupid mouth.

"All my senses are greatly improved," she said, almost reluctantly.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She smiled, if a bit sadly.

"I'm not human," she said. "I liked it better when you didn't know, when you treated me as though I was. I've spent so long feeling separated from everyone but my family. Feeling that connection again was... very enjoyable."

"Do you feel less connected to me now?" I asked, hating the very idea.

She looked at me, long and hard, thinking.

"No," she said at last. "I believed that I would, but really, I do not."

"Edwina," I said in quiet, amused exasperation. "Nothing has changed. I simply know more about you. I want to keep learning more. I want to know it all."

She reached over and took my hand.

"I understand," she said. "It's frequently frustrating, knowing so little about you too."

She slowed to a stop, and to my shock, we were outside my house. The drive was already over.

"You can ask me anything," I said. "I'll tell you."

I thought about my lack of qualification.

"Well, anything I can tell you," I clarify.

"What couldn't you tell me?" she asked, a thrill in her voice that I was starting to associate with her wanting to pull something she thought was particularly juicy out of my head.

"Stuff that's too embarrassing," I said, "or stuff that I don't know, things that I can't answer. And maybe things that I'm afraid to tell you."

"Why would you be afraid to tell me something?" she asked.

I shifted, uncomfortable, but kept her hand.

"I know I don't get to make your decisions for you," I said, "but if I think you're going to react in a way I don't want, it would be hard to tell you the truth."

She considered my words.

"You don't trust me," she said.

I blinked, "What are you talking about? Of course I trust you!"

"No," she disagreed. "Trusting someone doesn't mean you trust them until you don't. Trusting someone means trusting them, no matter what. You don't have to trust me, Ben. I have certainly done nothing to deserve it, and I do not think any less of you for not trusting me. But, could I ask you... a favor?"

"Perhaps," I said, wanting to know what it was first.

"I would appreciate it if you were honest with me," she said. "I am not suggesting that you must unequivocally tell me everything, but when you do speak, tell me the truth, as best you know it. If you extend me this courtesy, I will do the same."

I thought about it. She didn't sound like she was going after any sort of one-sided manipulations. I was pretty sure that if she wanted to convince me of something, she could have me convinced the sky was really orange and the center of the Earth was made of bubble gum. She wasn't trying to force me. She was letting me make my own decisions.

"I can do that," I said. "Just remember, I'm not perfect. I'm going to make mistakes."

She smiled wryly at me, "I'm not perfect either."

"More like idyllic," I said, "but no, I guess you aren't. Can I ask you something?"

"Perhaps," she said, her imitation of me practically unsettling.

"Can you tell me," I asked, "the next time you plan to leave again? For my own good."

She sighed, "I am not sure that I can. Leave, not tell you. That is to say, yes. I will tell you, but it's... hard for me to imagine that happening."

I nodded. It was hard for me to think about her leaving too. It was starting to feel like the socially appropriate time to get out of the car, but the idea had all the appeal of getting my teeth drilled.

"You want to go in?" she asked.

"Never," I said, then got embarrassed. "No! I mean no. I probably should, though. Shouldn't I?"

Her face was nearly invisible in the empty car without the dash lights on. By the light of the front porch, she seemed to look thoughtful.

"I believe your mother might come to investigate a strange car parked in front of your house if we were to stay here indefinitely," she said.

The thought of my mother coming out here had me wanting to sprint for the house.

"Yeah," I said, "I guess you're right."

I still couldn't make myself get out of the car.

"Can I pick you up for school tomorrow?" she asked. "Give you a ride?"

"Yes," I said, without really thinking it through. This alone was enough to unfreeze me and allow me to exit the car.

I reached for the handle.

"And Ben," she said, her voice noticeably louder.

I turned and was shocked at how close she was. Her breath mingled with mine, her face so close to mine I couldn't see her lips, I was suddenly overcome by the idea that she might kiss me. Her eyes sparked, golden in the dim light, her skin nearly glowing. She was the epitome of the gorgeous young woman.

"Have a good night," she said, so rich and resonant that I felt heat bloom through me as I was forced to take a long, shuttering breath.

After three tries, I found the door handle and was able to exit the car without completely tripping over my own feet. She smiled at me the whole while, and I stood, watching as she pulled back and drove away. After a moment, I was baffled that I hadn't woken up. After all, it had to be a dream. Right?


	11. Chapter 11: Conversations

I didn't know what I expected the next morning. I got ready as I always did, though my constantly shaking hands was getting old after I drop something for the third time. I realized that we had made no concrete plans, so I had decided to go sit in my truck until she got here, and if she was too late, I would just drive to school. The morning was misty, and I couldn't even make out my truck in the fog. I was just about half way to my truck before I realized that she was already here, her car beside mine. I thought about the comparison; the dented, dirty, and decrepit next to sleek, stylish, and fancy. That sounded about right.

I came around to the passenger side and slipped into the car, her face relaxing into a very alluring smile.

"Good morning," she said, "how did you sleep?"

There was something about the way she said it.

"Good, good," I said. "How about you?"

"Not at all," she said, smiling.

"Good," I started. "Wait. What?"

She laughed, "I don't sleep."

"You don't..." I started.

"Sleep," she supplied.

"Like ever?" I asked.

"No," she said. "It is not a thing we do."

I stared at her. Her smile became a little nervous.

"What do you do all night?" I asked, wonderingly.

The nervousness drained away.

"My family and I all have our own pursuits," she said. "We do whatever we wish, but mostly things that give our true natures away."

"Such as?" I ask.

Her smile quirked crookedly, "It depends. Whatever is peaking our interest at the time. Study, feats of skill or strength or dexterity, contests and various recreations, general observation, and, for the rest of my family, shall we say... affection."

I raised my eyebrows, then quickly looked out the window, to find we were already at school. Jeez, she drove fast.

"I see," I said.

She laughed.

"You're cute when you're embarrassed," she said.

I huffed, but she laughed all the more. I couldn't be too upset, though.

She parked, next to a red, rather expensive looking convertible.

"Wow," I said. "That's new."

"Relatively, yes," she said. "Rory was glad of the excuse. Outside of the Mercedes, this is the least expensive vehicle we have readily available."

"It's nice," I said, not sure what else to say as we exited the car. Just as I had the night before, I found myself crossing in front of the car to meet her. I suddenly felt a little foolish, assuming she would behave as she had the night before. I needn't of worried. Her smile was radiant as she took my arm, her cool grasp just noticeable through the thick cotton shirt I wore.

"So," I said, searching for something to talk about, "what does your family know about me?"

She dropped her eyes, but the smile remained in place.

"They know all about you," she said. "They are incredulous more than anything."

"Why?" I asked.

She looked up at me, easily walking up the step I stumbled on, actually doing quite a bit to steady me.

"If you think my behavior seems erratic to you," she said, "just imagine what it must seem like to them."

She was right, if they knew her so much better, all this rapid bouncing back and forth must be really odd.

We were getting to the perimeter of the school when I spotted Jesse. He was standing under the overhang of a building, escaping the slight drizzle that, until that point, I hadn't noticed. His expression could only be described as excessive and exasperated disbelief.

We walked towards him, which seemed odd to me, but I had no reason not to, so I didn't resist.

"Hey Jesse," said Edwina, her tone friendly and pleasant and her expression open and quite appealing. I had spent more time staring at her, up close and openly, in the last twenty-four hours than I had since I had first seen her, and even I was nearly staggered at the expression. Jesse looked as though he might be recovering from a head injury. He tried to speak, but what came out of his mouth sounded like he had been given an extra dose of medication after oral surgery. He recovered quickly enough after he turned to look at me.

"Did I loan you my Trig notes?" he asked.

"No," I said, my brows narrowing. I was unaware that he even took notes in Trig.

"Damn," he said. "I mean, darn. I guess I'll see in there. Bye."

He left with the intensity of someone who is running late.

I shook my head, saying rhetorically, "What was that about?"

"He wanted to ask you about last night," she informed me.

I looked over at her, then remembered that she was a telepath.

"Oh right," I said, and she beamed at me, momentarily and very lightly squeezing my arm.

"He is going to talk to you in class," she said, "ask you about me and whatnot."

I promptly froze, my eyes going wide.

"Um," I said. "What should I say?"

She grinned crookedly as she began walking me to my first class.

"If you wouldn't mind," she said. "I'd prefer that you didn't mention that I'm not human. You can consider it a personal favor if you want."

"No," I said, appalled. "I won't say anything about that."

She suppressed a chuckle.

"He also wants to know if we are dating," she said.

I swallowed, "Are we?"

"I wouldn't know," she said. "I've never dated anyone before."

"I haven't either," I admitted, looking at the ground.

She stopped just beside the door to my class.

"I would like to date you," she said. "But as I understand it, both our traditions dictates that I am asked, rather than do the asking."

I only missed a single beat, but only because I was pondering about what "both our cultures" meant.

"Will you go out with me?" I asked.

Her expression was transcendent.

"Yes," she said.

I had trouble breathing. Then her smile turned inward, and I got the impression she was laughing at something she wasn't sharing, at my expense.

"What?" I asked.

She looked up at me, at my face, smiling brilliantly. With a control that bordered on noticeably and inhumanly graceful, she reached, and ever so gently brushed my hair back out of my face. The dampness from the falling drizzle helped keep it in place, and the effect was more than a little unfair. If someone had asked me my name, I probably would have said hers.

"See you at lunch," she said casually over her shoulder, walking towards her next class. My eyes lingered on the sway of her hips the liquid and languorous sweep of her every step. I chastised myself before walking into my first class.

By the time I made it to Trig, I was suffused with dread. Even before I had walked through the door, I could see Jesse practically bouncing in his seat. When I got to my seat, Jesse nearly took my head off.

"Tell me everything!" he thundered.

I quickly went over what Edwina had said to me about what Jesse was thinking. Then I froze. I turned and looked at Jesse with a look that was half horror and half protest.

Edwina could read minds. She could eavesdrop on all of this. Anything I said, she could hear, and if I knew her at all, she would be listening.

"Are you okay dude?" Jesse asked. I shut my mouth.

"Sorry," I said. "I just remembered something totally unfair. I mean... Never mind."

"Dude," he said. "Spill!"

"Okay," I said, now doubly nervous. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything!" he said loudly.

"Just," I said, looking around, "keep your voice down, will you?"

"What happened last night?" he asked.

"She took me to dinner," I said.

"I know that," he said. "What else happened?"

"She drove me home," I said weakly.

"Oh come on," he said. "I saw how chummy you two were this morning. You're going to tell me nothing happened?"

I started to get angry.

"I don't like what you're insinuating Jesse," I said coldly. "About me or her."

"Whoa whoa whoa," he said. "Dude, chill. I don't mean it like that. Take it down a notch."

I sighed.

"You must really like her, man," he said.

I shrugged.

"No," he said starting to become more animated. "Don't just shrug. Come on, talk to me."

He paused a moment.

"Dude," he said, finally hushing as class started, "Do you know how many guys wish they were you right now? All of them! A lot of the girls too. Can't you let me have some vicarious fun here!?"

His tone was teasing, but ardent.

"What do you want to know?" I said, resigned and knowing that she was getting all of this.

"Are you guys dating?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

He hunched a little closer to me, but eager and not wanting to be caught talking.

"You ask her or she ask you?" he asked.

"I asked her," I said, then added, "though she made it pretty clear that she would say yes if I did."

He nodded, "What did you guys talk about yesterday?"

I froze, trying to find safe topics to share.

"We just talked about each other, mostly," I said. "She told me about herself and her family, various traits and pastimes."

"Such as?" he asked.

I shook my head, "I can't say. It's private, you know? Talk to her yourself. She'll tell you if she wants you to know."

"No way!" he laughed, then tried to avoid being noticed. "I don't know how you can just sit and talk to her. Doesn't she scare you?"

"Scare me?" I asked, then got an idea.

"Oh yeah," I said with heavy sarcasm. "She's a real monster."

"You know what I mean," he said. "But she likes you. Do you like her?"

"Yeah," I said easily, but starting to feel uneasy.

"No," he said. "I mean, on a scale from 'she's nice' to 'oh my god I must tap that!'."

I scowled at him, red faced.

"Pick... a different... scale," I fought out between clenched teeth.

"Fine," he said. "On a scale from friend to you considering proposing, where are you?"

"I don't know, Jesse," I said, blushing even more. "We've only had the one date. I mean, we haven't even-"

"What?" he said, leaning in. "Haven't even what?"

"I don't know," I said, slowly. "I don't know how... physical a relationship we're going to have. Other than taking my arm, she has barely touched me. She seems sort of... old fashioned."

"That sucks," he said, drawing the words out and sounding pretty miffed.

"It's okay," I said, and before I could think better of it, I added, "She's worth it."

"Yeah she is!" he said, his tone full of innuendo.

"No," I said, "I don't mean it like that."

"What did you mean then?" he asked.

I thought about it. Edwina was a vampire, but she didn't want to be. I didn't think I had ever met anyone who was willing to fight their nature, who was willing to go against what they felt they wanted, in order to do what they knew was right. She wasn't only willing, she was doing it.

"She's amazing," I said.

"Yeah she is!" he said in nearly the same tone as before.

"I'm not talking about her looks," I said hotly. "I mean who she is, what she wants, how she lives. I can't really put it into words. It's like, she's the best person that I know. I can't imagine ever doing anything that would make me deserving of someone like her."

He stared at me a long time.

"You've got it bad, man," he said laughing.

"What?" I whispered.

Ms. Varner spotted us then. But the time there was a break in the lesson, the class was over.

"Enough about me," I said. "What about you? How was your date with Mickie?"

Spanish went quickly, and any conversation leaned towards his date rather than mine. By the time we were leaving for lunch, I was starting to feel butterflies and started being clumsier than usual. After picking up my books for the third time between my desk and the door, Jesse took the hint.

"I'm guessing you aren't going to be sitting with us today, right?" he asked knowingly. Sure enough, she was leaning on a wall two buildings down from Spanish.

He laughed at me, "See you, Ben."

She leaned with her arms settled behind the small of her back, one knee raised with that foot planted against the wall, her head down. She looked like a cross between a model and a watercolor, all glamor and soft hues and beauty. My heartbeat was not steady as I stepped up beside her.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey," she said back, a vast depth of feeling in that simple word. She walked with me, our arms looped, but seemed lost in thought, saying nothing until we got to the cafeteria.

"I would like to buy you lunch," she said.

"Okay," I said reluctantly.

She rubbed my arm with the hand that wasn't looped through mine.

"I don't have many people in my life who I care enough about to wish to dote on," she said, "and even fewer who would accept it if I did. I know you don't like people doing things for you, but this a tiny thing. Won't you let me buy you lunch?"

Her eyes were so deep and piercing, her the curve and draw of her lips as she spoke mesmerizing.

"Okay," I said. I would have just as easily agreed to give her the clothes on my back, or maybe a kidney.

We went through the line, her buying a tray of pretty much everything, and as soon as her effects began to wear off, I couldn't help but feeling pleasantly miffed.

"It's really not fair, you dazzling me like that," I said as I took the tray and we walked to the table we had shared before.

"I dazzle you?" she asked.

I set the tray between us as we sat, both on the same side of the table.

"Frequently," I said, taking up some pizza.

She smiled, trying to hide it as she turned away. I noticed she was looking vaguely towards the table where I usually sat.

"You totally listened, didn't you?" I asked. Well, more accused.

She looked back at me, the very definition of contrived innocence.

"Would I do that?" she asked, with such subtle teasing sarcasm.

"Yes," I said bluntly. She giggled.

"Any thoughts on the conversation?" I asked.

"Millions," she said seriously.

My eyes went wide, "Any you care to share?"

"A few," she said, a little humor to her tone.

"Such as?" I asked.

"Do you really think I'm a monster?" she asked seriously.

"Of course not!" I said, rolling my eyes. "I was only teasing you."

"Okay," she said, then seemed to consider.

"Does it bother you?" she asked.

"Does what bother me?" I asked back.

"That we don't have a more physical relationship," she stated. There was no sway in her voice, no indication as to what I should or should not say, or whether a yes or a no would be preferred. She really just wanted to know.

"I don't know," I said. "I guess I hadn't really thought too much about it. I mean, is such a thing even possible for us?"

She looked a little sad.

"I don't know either," she said. "I wasn't sure until that conversation if it was something that you would have wanted. I didn't think you would be interested in this... body, if you knew what I am."

An entirely new avenue of possibility opened up for me. I suddenly saw a mental image of her, hair tousled, laying back in my own bed, holding a blanket to her chest, her shoulders bare. Something shuttered in me, with all of what that single simple image could suggest.

My brain caught up with her words.

"Is there some reason I shouldn't what to?" I asked.

"Aside from the fact that if I was not utterly and totally careful, I could kill you quite easily, no," she said. "But this body is hard, and cold and..."

"Yours," I said. "That's all I need to know."

She smiled, averting her eyes.

"So," she said, "what sort of physical activities did you have in mind?"

My eyes went wide, my voice going a bit squeaky, "Excuse me?"

She grinned, "You're adorable. You were offended when Jesse mention the idea of use having sex."

I felt myself blush.

"I didn't mean," I began. "Well, it's just that... I'm sort of..."

She looked at me, confused and concerned.

"I'm a virgin," I said quietly.

She sat stilly. I looked at her, and slowly a look of dawning wonder and something that looked an awful lot like satisfaction crossed her face.

"Oh," she said simply.

I started eating a piece of pizza, embarrassed.

"I told you," I said. "I've never dated anyone before."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because," I said, "until you, no one I met really appealed to me. I had my share of crushes, but as soon as we actually talked, I saw that it was all in my head."

"Just because you don't date someone," she stated, "doesn't mean you can't have sex with them."

"I wouldn't," I said flatly. "I would never..."

I quickly became too embarrassed to continue and after a long pause, I quickly changed the subject.

"Are we still on for Seattle of Saturday?" I asked.

She grinned, showing me her perfect and perfectly normal teeth.

"Anything to get out of the dance?" she teased. "Or being embarrassed. Or both!"

I almost smiled back, "I really can't dance."

"Of course you can," she said. "It's all about your partner."

I shook my head, "It is really hard to believe that only a week has gone by since that day. It feel so much longer."

She nodded, "I know what you mean. It feels like an eternity."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Though I don't think it would have been so bad if you were in Forks the whole time."

"I was," she said simply.

I stared at her, feeling quite mad.

"What!" I demanded loudly. "Why weren't you in school?"

"I couldn't," she said. "It's an issue with sunlight."

For a moment, I get the impression that she might be trying to distract me, but my anger is still too fierce for me to be waylaid.

"You could have told me," I said stiffly.

"Why?" she asked, sounding interested and a bit oblivious.

"I don't like being away from you," I admitted. "It made those three days unbearably long."

She looked pleased, but also a little sad, then said, "I'll tell you what. Are you attached to going to Seattle Saturday?"

"I'm not going to the dance," I said with finality.

She laughed endearingly, "No, no. What I mean is, that day will be sunny. I will have to stay out of sun, utterly. Which means if we go, what we can do together will be very, very limited. I was wondering, would you be open to doing anything else?"

"Such as?" I asked.

"Staying with me," she said.

"Of course," I said automatically. "But why? Where will you be?"

"I will be where no one can see me," she said. "No one but me and my family, at least. And you, if you should so choose."

"Why?" I asked again.

She smiled crookedly. I was starting to adore that smile.

"You'll have to wait and see," she said, "but suffice it to say, I cannot be seen in sunlight."

"Okay," I said.

"Okay?" she asked, almost looking unsure.

"Okay," I said. "I'll stay with you."

She looked so pleased, I started to feel a bit lightheaded. Then I remembered to breathe again.

"But what will we do?" I asked, still curious.

She tilted her head, considering.

"There is a meadow that I know of," she said. "It isn't too far. We could spend the day there if you like."

"Okay," I said. "Sounds good."

I continued eating and looked up to see her staring at me.

"What?" I said, suddenly self-conscious.

"Nothing," she said. "I just like to watch you eat."

I took another bit or two.

"Could you talk or something?" I asked, feeling uncomfortable.

"Why?" she asked.

"I feel embarrassed," I said. "I'm just sitting here. I can't talk and eat at the same time. Talk about something that you want to talk about or want to tell me. There's no reason for you to just sit there when you could be doing something else."

"You believe there is something I'd rather be doing?" she asked.

"Besides just staring at me?" I intone. "Yeah."

She shakes her head, "There isn't. You don't know... my kind well enough to understand this, but we don't see the world the same way humans do. We don't get bored or tired the same way. When I say that I could stare at you, doing nothing else, for literal hours, I'm being serious."

I snorted quietly, "I'll believe that when I see it."

She laughed, though I wasn't sure why.

Her expression formed into something telling but telling what I wasn't quite sure.

"You have no idea," she said. I looked at her, unsure what she meant. She went on as though I had asked for clarification rather than continued chewing.

"You believe that I'm worth it," she said, her words and posture unrepentant, "worth more than you, but you don't seem to know how much you're worth, or what you might lose by being with me. I am here because I think I just might be strong enough to be with you, without hurting you, but for someone like you, settling for that is just so... precarious. If it was anyone else, I don't think I could trust them to with you..."

I raised an eyebrow, "So, what? It's you or no one?"

She laughed, and it was magical to me. It made me feel all warm and tingly.

"No," she grinned. "I meant that if you were to date anyone else like me, anyone who had to work not to do you harm, I couldn't trust them to do so. It would be... too hard."

"How much I'm worth?" I asked. "What does that mean?"

She shook her head, a few tendrils of hair bouncing around her face. I, in turn, have to shake my head at myself too for how obtuse I am not to notice until now that she has her hair up today.

"You don't have the senses I do," she said, "but it is true; I know the students here better than any other student, most better than they know themselves. I see their minds and their actions, in perfect clarity, and they are shameless, selfish, self-center, egotistic liars, with a few exceptions. None of them hold a thousandth the interest you hold for me. Your unreadable mind might have been what caught my attention about you, but who you are, the person you are, at your core, is astounding to me."

The bell rang and I remembered at I was in school. I felt disgruntled at her being interrupted, but the genteel smile she gave me was enough to mellow me down in a moment. So, we made our way to class, arm in arm.

Biology was the last thing on my mind in Biology that day. Ms. Banner brought in some video, rolling in an old outdated television. With the lights out and us sitting together, it was the closest event to taking a girl to the movies I had ever done. However, the experience was somehow more intimate, sitting together alone. We sat closely together, not quite touching, enough for me to notice her coolness. In the dimness in the back of the room, I had the desire to touch her, not just my hand on hers or sleeve to sleeve. I want to put my arm around her, her shoulders or her waist. I wanted to feel her beside me, her body's length to mine. I wanted to feel her hair under my fingertips, to quest and see just how smooth her skin really was. I wanted to lean over and kiss her, to taste her.

She turned and looked at me, and I at her. Her face wasn't exactly emotionless, but it conveyed practically nothing. There was no invitation, but acceptance, no rejection, but tolerance, no judgment, but contemplation.

It was then that it dawned on me just how physically enamored I was of her at that moment, and how obvious it was to her, given her senses. I watched as she drew her lips into her mouth, slowly drawing her lower back out between her teeth, as though to moisten it. She smiled ever so slightly, and her enchanting form was so extreme in its appeal that I suddenly felt dwarfed by it, insignificant, and wouldn't have attempted any sort of progression, even if we had been alone. I returned my attention to the movie, which was not done even when the bell rang for the end of class.

We walked a short ways towards the Gym, as far as we could before she would have to go the other way for Spanish.

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling embarrassed.

"Don't be," she said, the pitch of her voice dropping into a lower, throatier register for a moment. "I don't mind, at all. But perhaps, we should limit that sort of physical contact, at least until I'm sure we can handle it."

"Handle it?" I asked, my brain going a bit fuzzy at the idea of her and me and physical contact.

She smiled, her endearing smile this time, "I could hurt you if I am not careful. I am, after all, very strong. If I am not entirely focused, as I was the day of the accident, I could severely injure you. I would be very unhappy should I inadvertently cause your death."

Her tone was light, but there was some serious weight behind it. She meant it.

"Okay," I said, thick with sarcasm. "I suppose I could behave myself."

I looked into her eyes, and watched her her body seem to relax, her shoulders drooping a bit and pulling back. I drew in a full breath, holding it as I shifted towards her slowly. She didn't breath either as I slowly reached up. I took one of the tresses of her hair between my fingers, letting the silky, perfect strands run between them as I brought my hand down, my knuckles gently grazing her cheek as I did, the very lightest of caresses.

A look filled her eyes, part longing, part desire, part quiver, part begrudging recrimination.

"I shouldn't," she said breathily, "do..."

I took her hand, kissing the back of it.

"Is this not okay?" I asked.

"It's..." she said. "Not..."

She closed her eyes, taking a long, full and careful breath.

"It is alright," she said. "Might I request you do not do anything faster or close to me without my permission?"

"Of course," I said, without question. I thought about it and knew what she was doing, being with me, a human, was something very new for her, and I got the impression that it was going to be hard on her. Why make it any harder than it already was?

Then my eyes drifted down the curve of her cheek, her jaw, her chin, her throat, her neck, her collar bone. I stopped before my eyes went lower. The possibilities swamped me, filling my mind until I could start thinking about something else. It was going to be harder than I thought not to make things difficult for her.

"See you after class," she said, and I remembered where we were and that I was now probably running late.

"Yeah," I said. "See you then."

I nearly tripped over my own feet turning to walk to class. I hurried and changed out and was out of the locker room on time.

We were doing badminton, which meant working in teams of two. I couldn't remain as anonymous and out of the way as I did with other sports. It was embarrassing enough to have my lack of coordination put on display but to have to do it happen more frequently because there were less other players on my team was gut wrenching.

Mickie agreed to be on my team, which made me realize that I hadn't talked to her all day. She was a little standoffish but played rather well, and I only played when absolutely necessary and when I was aiming away from her. As a result, I mostly fell a few times and after I tangled myself in the net and hit myself in the face with my racket, I pretty much stayed out of Mickie's way.

I was walking to go change after class when Mickie caught up with me before I could get to the locker room.

"So," she said, her tone resentful, "you're dating Cullen now?"

"Yes," I said, trying to sound more neutral since she had helped me out a lot today.

"I don't like it," she said. "Why would you want to date her, anyway?"

I frowned but remained mostly pleasant.

"Mickie," I said, "who I date is up to me. You're my friend, but I'm not going to justify myself to you. I am dating her because I want to, and for no other reason."

She looked almost mean, "I would have thought you had more going for you than to be swayed by a pretty plastic person."

I took a deep breath.

"That's nice," I said sarcastically. "I would have that there was more to you than to act maliciously towards someone I am dating simply because it isn't you."

I turned and walked away. As soon as I was out of the locker room, I turned towards Spanish and found Edwina standing there, waiting.

She took my offered arm, and we started walking towards her car.

"Thanks for that," she said.

I blinked, "For?"

She glanced to one side, and I saw Mickie stalking off, suddenly grabbing Jesse out of the crowd, pushing him up against a locker and kissing him fiercely.

"Mickie was seriously starting to... irritate me," she said. "The way you handled it was very you. I find that I appreciate you more and more all the time."

She leaned her head on my shoulder as we walked. I breathed deep, starting to notice her scent. Her smell was somehow very contradictory. It was something I had never noticed but was somehow familiar. It settled me down but also made me want to take action, to do something I couldn't put my finger on. It made me smile, but also made me want to growl. It made me feel more like a human, but like an animal too.

I took another breath, this one a bit ragged.

"What is it?" she asked, raising her head. I opened the door for her and she stepped into the driver's seat. I closed the door and took my own seat.

"I don't know how to put this," I said. I kept my eyes pointed out the windshield, purposefully away from her.

"I assure you," she said. "There is nothing you could say or do that would make me think less of you. Say what you want to say."

"I'm not used to this," I said, quickly, then shut up.

"Being with someone?" she asked.

I tried to push aside the discomfort so I could say it, but it wasn't until I clenched my eyes and turned my face away from her that I was able to.

"Wanting you this badly," I said in barely a whisper. "Wanting anyone this badly. It's like, as soon as I see you, I can't think of anything else. I've never had to deal with it before."

"You've never wanted anyone before?" she asked, inquisitively.

"Not really," I said. "I've fantasized about a girl or two, had some celebrity crushes, but I've never been with someone I might actually do something physical with. It is hard to do anything, but want you."

She considered my words in silence. The car stopped and I opened my eyes to see that we were outside my house.

"Do you think anything has changed since we started dating?" she asked, turning a bit to face me in her seat.

"Sure," I said. "We're talking differently to each other, we're acting differently."

"Do you think we would be behaving the same way if we weren't dating?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, "I would be trying... or thinking about trying to..."

I couldn't finish. I felt ashamed of myself. What was this so big and important to me all of a sudden?

"I didn't say what you were thinking about doing," she said. "I mean actually doing."

I thought about it. We were talking, getting to know each other. I was perhaps a bit more friendly with her than I had been with my friends physically, but all I had done was kiss her hand, touch some of her hand, a bit of her face. It really was nothing. If we hadn't been dating, I wouldn't have felt any less comfortable doing what I did.

"No," I said thoughtfully. "I guess things wouldn't be different."

"Do you want to have sex with me?" she asked.

The word that blared through my head was a resounding foghorn blast of YES!, but I turned and looked at her, stunned and discomfited.

"I-," I began, but then said, "don't know."

She nodded, "I don't know either. It is important, and dangerous, especially for us. It isn't something I think we should do impulsively."

I breathed, and something eased in me.

"Yeah," I said. "If we do, I don't want our first time to be because I got all testosterone laden. I want it to be a choice, not a lack of one."

Edwina nodded, "A choice we make together."

I nodded too.

"What are your opinions," she asked, "about sex?"

I snorted in amusement, "My dad was a big believer in the idea that male sexuality was responsible for a majority of the most scandalous crimes against women. I was brought up to believe that a girl's body is tantamount to being sacred and that when it comes to sex, her word is final."

She gave me a displeased look.

"That doesn't sound very healthy," she said, her voice critical.

"Huh?" I replied, surprised. "Why?"

"A couple should be equals, in all things," she said. "If her say is final, then it is impossible for there to be balance, ever. You will always fall second to her."

"Are you suggesting that I deny her the right to say no?" I asked incredulously.

"I'm suggesting that what you want is just as important," she clarified. "She can say no to you. But you can say no too. The way you described it, you made it sound like you would be asking for sex all the time, and when she agreed, you would have sex. At what point do you not want sex?"

I tried to hide my smile, "I do sleep."

She giggled, "You don't say..."

"But I get what you're saying," I said.

She nodded, "It is pretty common for high school boys these days to lie about their conquests. Many think it is ego, trying to make them seem more impressive than they really are, but you would be surprised how often it is because they feel that they have no other choice. The term peer pressure doesn't really cover it. A lot of boys have forced themselves to believe they want sex all the time or that any opportunity for sex should be taken so they feel normal and acceptable. Before I became interested in you, I would have said that it was stupid and trite, but now, I feel more inclined to be forgiving. It's the best decision they know how to make, even if it won't make them happy. But, whether they realize it or not, they have a choice."

I wanted to kiss her, and it was definitely not in the same way I had before. I wasn't staring- okay, maybe I was, but it wasn't for the same reasons. It wasn't about her beauty and appeal, or wanting her covetously; it was because she could see the truth and understand and be compassionate about it. It was because she could help me see the truth about myself and make me feel okay about it. This was new, and something I never thought I might want or need.

She was right, of course. I was no different. I thought that having sex was one of the best things I could do. I had never done it, but every indication I had was that it was so desirable as to be destructive, that I should not have a choice should the possibility for sex arise. But she was right. I had a choice, and having a choice felt better, truer, easier. She helped me see that, see past what I thought was my only option, because I was willing to see it and because I trusted her.

"I trust you," I said, nodding. "I do have a choice. Thank you."

An awe filled her expression, so profound it felt a bit uncomfortable to see it, like I was seeing her sort of naked, vulnerable, bare in a way that most people weren't usually. Slowly, that awe melt away, making way for an equally profound joy.

"You've got it backward," she said. "I can't imagine ever doing anything that would make me deserving of someone like you."

There was a long, companionable silence, both of us smile, looking at each other until it became too much and one of us would look away for a time, but we always came back.

"If I had to guess," she said, "you would prefer that I be gone before your mother gets home."

I started, sitting straighter.

"Um, yeah, actually," I said, not even thinking about it until she mentioned it. "But..."

I felt more than a little conflicted.

"But?" she asked.

"I don't want you to go," I said. I wanted to follow that up with saying that if I had my way, I would never be apart from her again, but I didn't think she would like that too much.

She still grinned, almost shyly, again.

"We still have some time," she said. "What should we do until then?"

Something was bugging me, something in the back of my mind, about equals, but I wasn't sure how to ask the question right, so instead, I asked, "What do you like?"

"You," she said immediately, only a bit teasingly.

"No," I said, snorting into a laugh. "I mean, what do you do? What do you enjoy? What are your pastimes?"

"Many things," she said. "I enjoy music quite a bit, and books. Of my family, of which I have been a vampire longest other than my mother and brother Jasper, I have read the most books, accrued the most skills, can speak the most languages. I enjoy playing competitively with my siblings, but they mostly won't play with me."

"Why?" I asked, and she smiled, tapping her forehead.

"Oh," I said with a self-deprecating huff. "Right."

"I enjoy driving and speed," she went on, "and though I've never piloted a plane, I'm sure that I would enjoy that as well."

One fact stuck in my mind, and though I wanted to ask, I knew it was considered rude. But then she asked, "What?"

"Um," I said politely, "may I ask how old you are?"

She stared at me for a protracted moment then burst out laughing, shaking the car a bit in her mirth.

"You are adorable," she giggled, slowly she subsided.

"I wonder if it will bother you," she said.

I peered at her, "Why?"

She smiled sadly at me, "I am not human. You need so much reminding of that, so often. I am wondering how you will start treating me when it finally sinks in."

I chewed that over a bit.

"Why do you seem so sure that it will change?" I said, something about the way she said it catching my attention.

She smiled slowly, "I'm never going to get over how observant you are. We don't change like humans do. For many of us, we don't change at all from the time of our conversion. When we become vampire, we are locked into who we are when the change takes us. Our new minds do not alter as humans do. Memories fade for you, you heal, you shift, you grow, you age. We do none of these things. Constants for us are constants. Change for you is your only constant."

"How do you become a vampire?" I asked.

I meant it as an idle question. I asked it because she had never mentioned it or anything to do with it before. It seemed interesting to me. I hadn't even thought to wonder how she would respond, but if I had, I wouldn't have thought that her eyes would have become hard, her lips pressed as she stared out the front windshield.

"I'm not telling you that," she said evenly.

"Whoa," I said, her current mood so contrary to how she had acted all day, it was nearly as jarring as if she had started screaming.

"What?" I asked. "What did I say?"

"You aren't-," she started, but then her face became calm again.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice polite as ever, "but that is not something I'm willing to discuss."

I breathed, wondering how we had got here and how we might get back to where we were before.

"Can I ask why?" I asked.

She smiled but shook her head, "No. I can't tell you for the same reason I won't talk about it. You can ask all you want, but I'm not going to say any more on the subject."

Something about this bugged me, but I was willing to let it go for now.

"I should get dinner started," I said. "Do you want to stay for a bit?"

"No," she said, "I better go."

"I'm sorry," I said, looking at my hands in my lap.

"No, she insisted. "No. I'm sorry. You... you just have no idea how captivating you are."

I whipped around to look at her, "Huh?"

"You capture so much of my attention," she said." There are times when it's hard to focus around you, which isn't very safe because you inspire some pretty strong reactions from me."

I thought about what she was saying, and then suddenly something clicked into place that really hadn't occurred to me.

"Saturday," I said. "It's going to be dangerous for us, isn't it? I mean, the way you looked at me that first day in Biology, all your warnings, and talking about risk to me. One of those possibilities, one of the two you mentioned, is me, dead."

She looked as though she were preparing to bolt, the flee and never return. She didn't look scared; she looked as though she were in pain. She looked as though she had been offered everything she had ever wanted, then lost it all, though her own fault.

I don't know what made me do it. I was risking my life, and in that moment, I didn't care. There wasn't anything I wouldn't risk to take that expression off of her face.

I throw my arms around her, leaning across the console and holding her to me. I pulled her to me, amazed by how hard and cold she felt. I felt her stiffen beneath me, but if she wanted to pull away, I didn't think I could have stopped her. She carefully, so slowly I didn't notice at first, put her arms around me.

I felt something in my chest, a fluttery, elusive feeling, a feeling like something was breaking, but at the same time it felt like something was mending. I started to lose hold of myself, and all there was in the world was her and me, and us, together.

A low, quiet sound came from her, sounding almost like a moan, but I couldn't tell the connotations behind it. Finally, I began to withdraw, and for an instant, I thought that she might not let me go. I pulled back and looked into her face.

"I trust you," I said.

Her misery was so wrong on her face, and not just for the lack of tears.

"But what if I...," she gasped, her voice horribly constricted.

"I trust you," I said with finality.

I touched my palm to her cheek. I grabbed my bag, and got out of the car, walking into the house. When I looked out the window a minute later, she was gone.

By the time Carrie got home, the vegetarian fajitas I had made were almost done. I was heating tortillas and turned off the heat on the skillet when she walked in the door.

"Smells good," she said, hanging up her gear and coming into the kitchen.

"Are those mushrooms?" she asked, sounding dubious.

"Don't knock it until you've tried it," I said.

She straightened, then said with a deeply sarcastic tone, "Okay, mom."

I glared as I flipped the veggies and turned to pour them on the plate.

"You're back," she said, getting out plates and setting them next to me.

"What do you mean?" I asked, putting a bit of green sauce and salsa on my plate out of a jar.

She grabbed the salsa but let me put the green sauce away.

"You've been all distant since Sunday," she said. "But you're not far away anymore; you're back."

I put veggies on my plate and she did too, as I put the tortillas on a third plate.

"I'm looking forward to the weekend," I said.

She nodded, "Did she ask you?"

I looked at her, confused, "Did who ask me what?"

Her face sort of fell then went blank.

"Nothing," she said. "No, nothing. Never mind."

"Mom!" I whined.

"So," she said, sitting to eat, "still planning on going to Seattle?"

I froze. What could I say? I didn't want mom to know about Edwina yet, and moreover, if something was to happen Saturday, I didn't want to cast suspicion on the Cullens. I decided to go with misleading honesty.

"That was the plan," I said quickly.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Not entirely sure," I said. "I was going to play it by ear, see what there is to see and do what there is to do. I've never been there before, so I don't know what there is to even do. It's been a while since I could get out of the house and just do whatever."

She bobbed her head as she ate.

"And you're not going to the dance?" she asked.

"I don't dance!" I tried no to yell.

She looked as amused as she did reproachful, "Okay. I hear you."

I went on eating.

"So, I-" she started, but there was a knock at the door. For some reason, I got this insane notion that it would be her. Who else could it be? No one had ever knocked at our door since I had gotten here.

I was halfway to the door before mom could stand up. I might have dropped my fork. And kicked it into the living room. But when I got to the door, it wasn't Edwina.

"Hey Ben," drawled Jocelyn. She was standing there in a white T-shirt and jeans, her mother, Belinda in a wheelchair before her.

"Hey, Joc- Josie", I said.

"You remembered," she said excitedly.

"Hey Lin," Carrie said walking up to the door. "Right on time."

"With a game tonight," said Belinda firmly. "You know it!"

"Decided to tag along, Jose?" asked mom.

"Yep," said Belinda meaningfully. "Apparently she's developed a sudden interest in... sports."

I blinked between them until the laughed.

"Well," my mom said, "come on in! You can't see the game from out there."

Josie pushed her mom in. It had felt like almost a year since I had last seen her. I realized it had only been five days.

"We've got snack food," said mom. "Unfortunately we didn't make enough dinner. Ben didn't know you were coming."

"You cook?" asked Josie. I couldn't tell if she was surprised or impressed.

"I can follow a recipe," I said humbly, and the moms smiled, giving each other significant looks.

"I'm going to eat in the living room," said mom. "Why don't you two hang out in the kitchen?"

"Okay," said Jose. I went back to my place at the table after recovering a clean fork, and she hopped up on the counter, crossing her ankles and leaning forward on her palms.

"How've you been?" she asked.

I munched food, "Can't complain. Except for them. What was that about?"

She kicked her feet back and forth, "I think they think we might be all self-conscious if they hang around us kids."

I snorted a laugh, "Speak for yourself."

"What?" she shot back. "Please! As though you expect me to believe you're older than me!"

"I am older than you," I said.

"Sure, sure," she said, "but we all know girls mature way faster than boys."

"You seem surprised I can cook," I pointed out. "How mature can you be?"

"Mature enough to understand our moms' subtext," she shot back, "which you obviously can't."

"I can drive," I riposted.

"I can too," she said.

"Legally?" I drew out the word, leaning back in my chair.

"Can you fix a car?" she asked.

I was suddenly defensive.

"I can change a tire," I said. She looked unimpressed.

"I'm putting an old Rabbit back together," she boasted. "With a little luck, it will be up and running before I get my license."

"Can you balance a checkbook?" I asked.

It was her turn to look defensive, but she came back with, "Assist someone who's disabled?"

I frowned, "That's in poor taste. Plus, extenuating circumstances. If I was in your position, I would know that too."

"First aid?" she asked. "CPR?"

My frown deepened, "That's cheating. Speak a second language?"

She said something in a liquid, unusually inflected tongue. I came back with some well accented by probably rather broken Spanish, which didn't sound nearly as impressive as her.

"Do the grocery shopping?" she asked.

"Yes," I said in minor triumph.

"Clean the house?" I asked.

"Yes," she said but sounded unsure.

"Regularly, and well?" I retaliated.

She frowned at me, "Do you know your family lineage?"

"What does that have to do with being grown up?" I asked.

"Do you?" she asked.

I frowned back.

"Do you have a college fund?" I asked.

She didn't look happy at the question. She looked sort of embarrassed, almost ashamed.

"It doesn't matter how much you have in it," I said. "I would have been completely cleared it out if mom hadn't gotten me the truck. The important part of the question is having one."

"No," she admitted, but she admitted it easily and smiled a bit.

"We both still have time," I said. "It isn't like we're going to college tomorrow."

She bobbed her head, pleased.

I kept eating.

"Is that good?" she asked.

I considered, "Not my best, but it's good. Do you cook?"

She made a particularly nasal snort, "Yeah no. Not really. I mean, I can put a meal on the table, but most of the recipes I follow I'm getting off the back of the box."

I smiled, "Yeah, I can see that."

She narrowed her eyes at me, "What's that supposed to mean?"

I laughed, "You're such a delicate flower! Can I borrow your frilly apron and your flowery ironing board when you're done with them?"

She laughed, "Yeah, I see your point."

There was a moment of quiet, then she asked, "What sort of girls do you like?"

I sat straighter, "I... What?"

"Girls," she said exaggeratedly. "You do like them, yes?"

"Yeah," I said. "Yes, yep, uh huh. I'm pro girl."

"What sorts of girls do you like?" she asked again.

I considered, "I'm not sure, honestly. There really hasn't been many that I've really liked, and the few I have I wasn't hugely interested in and they couldn't exactly be lumped into a group, other than girl."

"All white?" she asked, her tone a little cautious but not fearful.

"No," I said, and didn't elaborate.

"But you aren't going to the dance with any of the girls who asked you," she said. It was almost a question. My response was almost reasonable.

"How do you know about that?!" I exclaimed. My voice may have cracked, and both rooms were silent, aside from the TV.

She gave me a meaningful look.

"Girls talk to their moms," she explained, as though to a small child. "They especially talk when they get shot down by boys. Moms talk to other moms. Things get talked about and heard of."

"I'm never going to escape this stupid dance," I said sulkily.

"What's the big deal?" she asked. "It's just a dance."

"It's not just a dance," I said. "It's a plague. It's a pox upon my life, always catching, never cured, inescapable and festering. People in our fiftieth class reunion will be asking me about this dance."

"Why aren't you going?" she asked.

"I can't dance," I admit.

She looked at me, "And? No one else who goes can either."

I shook my head.

"I don't want to go because..." I say, considering, then say, "I always thought I'd go to the dance with my girlfriend and we slow dance and it would be amazing. But I can't dance."

"You don't have a girlfriend?" she asked. It was almost a statement.

I thought about Edwina. We hadn't spoken of it, but we were a lot closer to being in a relationship than not. If I asked her to be my girlfriend, I realized that she would likely say yes. But I didn't want to risk that perfect moment in my head. Edwina could live up to it. I could not.

"I don't have a girlfriend," I said.

"But you're dating someone?" she asked.

I didn't manage to say something that time. I just spluttered.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said, resigned.

"How did-," I choked, but nothing came out. I glanced towards the living room.

"Who is it?" she asked, keeping her voice down.

I made sure my mother wasn't in earshot.

"Edwina Cullen," I whispered.

Her eyebrows went up and she snickered, "Well, that explains why my mom has been so anxious."

"Why?" I asked, though I immediately kicked myself. I was so used to thinking that no one knew, it took me a second to shift gears. The Quileutes knew. They had known all along.

"No one from the reservation was going to the hospital," said Josie. "When your mom found out and ask why, my mom said that it was because of Dr. Cullen. They had the worst fight I've ever seen them have and didn't speak for months. This is the first time I've seen them be this friendly again since then."

"Is she going to tell my mom?" I asked, mostly rhetorically.

"I doubt it," she said back. "Neither of them want to fight like that again."

"Okay," I said, somewhat relieved.

"Why don't you want your mom to know?" she asked me.

"Mom has been interfering with my dating life since before I had a dating life," I said.

"Interfering how?" she replied.

"She... uh..." I said, thinking fast. "She asked me about it."

"She asked you about it?" she clarified, her skepticism painfully obvious.

"More than... once," I said weakly.

"Man," she said with thick sarcasm. "That must of been rough. Right up the with Chinese water torture."

"Oh shut up!" I said. She only smiled at me.

She had a nice smile.

"So what if I took you to the dance?" she asked. Her words were a bit timid and she looked away, but her eyes return quickly and steadily.

"Why?" I asked, then felt like a jerk for saying it, so I tacked on. "I mean, it doesn't seem like your kind of thing. You don't even go to my school."

She bobbed her head back and forth, then sat up, "What do you mean, not my kinda thing?"

I stared at her a moment. If I was being perfectly honest, Josie reminded me much more of a girl than a young woman. Her clothing was pretty unisex if not typically male. She wore no makeup of any kind. She didn't really have measurements so much as measurement, one width all the way down. She was getting some solid height in her, given her age, and it left her more skinny and lanky then slender and willowy. She was about as feminine as I was.

But none of that matter to me, even a little. She was a good person, and nothing I observed detracted from that even a little. She had nice skin and a great smile and was someone who I enjoyed being around at least as much as Angelo.

I grinned at her, "I just can't see you wearing a dress. I'd keep confusing you with an umbrella."

Her offended looking turned to laughter.

"You ass," she said. "People development at different rates. If you saw my mom at my age, she was the same way, but as soon as she hit sixteen, she became a knockout. Just give me six months or so, and I bet you fifty bucks I'd wipe that smirk off your face."

I smiled, "That won't help you much. The dance is in two days."

She looked sideways at me, "Are you saying you wouldn't take me to the dance because I'm not curvy enough for you?"

"No," I said. "I'm saying your point is moot. You couldn't prove it in time for the excuse for you to wear an actually dress, so there!"

"You're being really sexist," she complained.

I looked at her, and all my teasing melted away.

"Josie," I said. "It doesn't matter to me. You could be drop dead gorgeous or plain Jane or forty pounds overweight or anorexic. I'm still not going to the dance with you."

The last was said with the teasing renewed. Her sort of melting look went deeply offended, and she promptly threw the close thing to her at me. It was a dish towel. Unfortunately for me, trying to dodge it resulted in me falling out of my chair. It canted sideways and skipped out from under me, and I just prevented my head from colliding with the floor as I landed. Luckily, I had landed on the flat of my side and my arm, so I had only slammed down all at once rather than impacted on several points over time.

I got up slowly, hurt but not badly. Josie was on her feet, looking more embarrassed than I felt, her hands over her mouth.

"That was loud," I said pleasantly, playing it off. Mom came in, walking brusquely. She saw the overturned chair and came over to me.

"Are you alright?" she asked, looking in my eyes and relaxing more.

"I'm fine," I said, fixing the chair. I decided to clean the table, and once I made it to the kitchen, I looked over to see mom was gone back to the living room and Josie was leaning against the fridge, utterly contrite.

"I'm so sorry," she said, and I shrugged it off.

"I'm fine," I said, embarrassed, "it's fine. Really."

There was something rather vulnerable about her standing there, hunched in regret, her glossy black hair falling to block the light from above the table from gracing half her face, completely cast her features in shadow. Before I could think what I was doing, I walked over and pushed her hair back behind her ear.

She looked at me, into my eyes, her look awed.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

I shook my head, "I couldn't see your face."

I realized we were remarkably close. She could have touched me without needing to fully extend her arm. Her face got a little red and she looked at her feet.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the dance with me?" she asked, for some reason, I actually considered it. It was fun, here with her, and the fall notwithstanding, I bet we could have had a really good time.

"I can't," I said. "I'm dating Edwina."

"And?" asked Jose. "You said it yourself; she's not your girlfriend. What? She's not up for a little healthy competition?"

I shook my head, "There's no competition."

She looked a bit hurt by my comment but tried very hard to cover it up.

I found myself grabbing her shoulders, giving her a tiny shake to loosen her up.

"I'm not a prize at the end of a contest," I said. "You can't win me. It just doesn't work that way."

She finally smiled at me, relaxing. She put a hand on my chest, looking into my eyes, "Can't blame a girl for trying, can you?"

That night, after the game was over, after much conversation and bantering, I was lying in bed, wondering what I would tell Edwina tomorrow. I drifted off before I found my answer.


	12. Chapter 12: Confessions

It was a bit clearer on Friday. I had no problem seeing the silver car parked in my driveway. The only problem I had was not running to the car itself. As soon as I was close to her again, I remembered how much I wanted to be with her, always.

I sat in the car and she smiled at me as she pulled away.

"How was your night?" she asked.

"Good," I said conversationally. "Had friends of the family come by for a visit."

"Oh?" she asked, her tone the barest hint of something to it I didn't understand.

"The Blacks," I said, "from La Push."

She suddenly grinned, "Any more stories about supposedly mythical creatures they wanted to tell you about?"

Her joking didn't really have the intended effect.

"Belinda Black is worried about us," I said. "She believes what you are, and she doesn't want me to get hurt."

There was a short silence. We both seemed to know that what I meant was that she didn't want me killed.

"I don't want that either," she said. "If I thought that it was likely, I would not be alone with you."

"I don't mind being alone with you," I said, looking at her. "I almost prefer it."

She looked into my face for a moment, and there was a piercing look to her eyes, a desire that I didn't fully understand before she went back to smiling.

"Don't give me any ideas," she said teasingly. "What would your mother say if I didn't bring you back?"

"I don't know what she would think," I said. "I didn't tell her where I was going."

Edwina froze, other than still driving.

"You didn't tell her?" she asked. "Why not?"

I shrugged.

"Two reasons, I guess," I said. "One, I have trouble talking about you, especially with mom. I feel like I'm sharing you, and I don't want to. I don't want how I feel about you to be wrong, and the more people who get to judge it and me, the less important my feelings seem."

There was a flurry of conflict all over her face, tinged with intense expressions that I was beginning to associate with her curiosity.

"And, the other reason?" she asked, which looked like it took effort to ask.

"The other," I said, "is that I trust you."

"What?" she practically snapped.

"I trust you," I said again, "but I also understand that you might fail. It isn't your fault if you do. It would be a horrible accident, and I wouldn't want it to cause you or your family trouble if it happened. That wouldn't help things any, and it wouldn't bring me back in any case."

"You're-" she began, but she stopped. Her expression wasn't blank. It looked as though she were doing everything she could to keep it that way and was failing. The best she could do was to look only moderately distressed.

"You're trying to make it easier for me," she clarified so very carefully, "in the event that I should kill you?"

"Yeah," I said. "I don't think you will, but I wouldn't want my decision to end up making things difficult."

She spun the car. We whipped off the road a parked perfectly.

She turned towards me, and her face was... words couldn't do it justice. She looked as though she was going to kill me that very moment. The rage was something to behold, the most terrifying visage I had ever witnessed. It was literally painful to see, my throat constricting, my heart bouncing off my ribs and rebounding all around my torso, my muscles instinctively pulling in every direction at once, holding me still but wrenching themselves raw. But what was the worse, was the undeniable pain and sadness that was constantly trying to pull the rage off of her face. Under all the anger and ferocity, she was terrified and bereft.

"You!" she all but screamed, her voice so loud it hurt. "You cannot be this... this... selfless! Have you no sense of survival?! Of self-worth?! Do you not understand that it would be easy, so easy for me to kill you now, here, this very second?! You are taking away any obstacles that might be in my way! You're making it easier! Do you want to die!? Why are you doing this to me?! Do you see how much you mean to me?! Do you have any earthly idea what it would do to me if I lost you!? If it was my fault!?"

She shook, violently, a shutter that vibrated the whole car. Then, she relaxed, sagged, covering her face with her hands.

"You can't," she whispered. "You can't do this to me. How would I ever survive..."

Her voice fell away, and she became still as stone, a statue of indelible grief.

"Edwina," I said, quietly.

I took her hands and guided them from her face, holding them both in one of mine, and tilted her head up. Her eyes were wide, somehow innocent and lost. Slowly, every so carefully, I leaned across to her and placed a single, chaste kiss upon her cheek, her cool hard skin so smooth it felt soft.

"Have you no sense of self-worth?" I asked in turn. "You are so much stronger than you are giving yourself credit for. What, you think that if my mother knew where I was, it would be the difference between your decision to kill me or not? Are you really so weak that such excuses or justifications would be enough reason for you to keep my life or end it? If you made the decision to murder me, there is little I could do to try and stop you. It's your decision. I can't make it for you, nor would I. I trust you."

"What are you?" she asked, and from her expression, I was somewhat surprised that her voice was as lovely as ever and not some strangled croak.

"Are you some angel," she asked, "here to torment me? Everything you are and want contradicts all that I know about the world and what humans are to each other. Before I met you, had I to ask for what I could want, my fantasies could only have been a fraction of the person you are. I would have settled for flimsy excuses for the traits you possess because I didn't know their true depths could exist in full, as they do in you. You may not be perfect, but you are so far beyond my ideal, it is all but simply comical."

I held her hand and stared into her face. She was beautiful. It wasn't the shape of her face, or the color, or texture or proportions. It was her; the expressions she formed, the change and shifting of expression, the true self of her, behind the face, the music and melody of who she was, is, and would be. Had she been merely human, she still would have been wondrous to me.

"I'm just me," I said. She actually laughed.

"You are," she said. "But that seems an understatement somehow."

I settled back in my seat, and she restarted the car and pulled back onto the street.

"Where are we going this weekend?" I asked.

She smiled, "I know of a place; a meadow that's not too far. It is a rather pretty place, especially when the weather is nice."

"Okay," I said, sounding positive if not overly enthusiastic. After all, if she was there, I was going to be happy.

She walked me to class, my arm at my side because she was too close beside me for the usual crooked posture I used. She breathed deep, smiling at me whenever I looked over at her. I found myself wishing that I had more classes with her. But, then again, I wouldn't be likely to actually learn things in those classes.

As we drew to the point where we must part and she must leave me, I turned and looked deep into her eyes. She really wasn't that much shorter than me. If she stood tall and on her tiptoes, and I slouched as I usually did, we would meet, be even, eye to eye, lips to...

I felt the rush, the desire for her, and beat it back. She giggled.

"I don't think I will ever get tired of that," she said.

"What?" I said, feeling warm.

"You being attracted to me," she said. "Your eyes dilating, your skin heating up, your heart pounding..."

Her hands caught the front of my shirt, pulling me closer, but still with enough space that she wasn't actually touching me. I carefully reached up, steadily, and touched her cheek. Her eyes closed at our contact, and I would have missed her eyes if I didn't get to see the ecstasy my hand on her face inspired.

"Being touched by you feels criminal," she said, biting her lip as she smiled. "It shouldn't be allowed."

"Why?" I asked.

"If feels like we are breaking some rule, some limitation on what people should be allowed to have," she said. "It's too much, in so many, many ways."

"Okay," I said and withdrew my hand quickly. She looked so shocked I burst out laughing.

"No," she almost whined in her melodic voice as I turned and walked into class. She looked like she was considering following me, and it took me focusing entirely on lunch and Biology and the ride home and tomorrow for me not to walk back out to her. She promptly pouted playfully and walked off to her class. I watched her, my eyes drifting a bit lower than a gentleman's eyes really should.

The day was a blur, my thoughts mostly on her, obviously. I caught Jesse looking over at me and shaking his head a time or seven, looking like he was trying not to punch me in the arm and say I was a lucky son of a bitch.

Finally, when lunch came around, I wasn't two steps out of the door from my class when someone had looped her cool arm through mine and put her chin on my shoulder for a moment.

"If I didn't know any better," I said, light sarcasm simmering through my words, "I would have thought you were eager to see me or something."

"High school is torture," she said. "But I get to see a lot of you, so it's totally worth it."

"You could be seeing a lot of me with your own eyes," I pointed out.

She shook her head, "I can't think about that too hard."

"Why not?" I asked as we head for the lunch line.

"Imagine," she said, but paused a moment, then said, "how you would feel not being able to see me all the time."

I frowned at her, "I don't see you all the time. Some of us have to wait for lunch because we aren't telepathic."

She laughed, a bit louder than she normally would, and I noticed Brenda Chaney behind us relaxing the perplexed look on her face at the laugh.

I pulled her close, turning as though to kiss her hair, but as soon as my mouth was hidden from those around us, I whispered, "Sorry. I forget sometimes."

She looked up at me as I pulled away. She looked as though she might want me to lean down and kiss her.

"I love it when you do that," she said.

I blinked at her.

"Do what?" I asked back.

"Forget what I am," she said. "Or rather treat me like I'm a person, like an equal. To be like you is, I think, the great aspersions of worthiness I could hope to achieve."

I shook my head, "Mine is to be worthy of you. I don't know how I got this lucky."

She laughed, "Your view of me is ludicrous."

I smiled at her, "If you say so."

We took our usual table, and I ate heartily but managed to do so around our conversation.

"I have a confession to make," she said. I looked at her, unsure.

"Okay," I said.

She looked rather distressed, "I am a bit worried about what your reaction will be."

From her tone, I could tell she was being playful, but she also sounded serious.

I compromised by saying, "Okay" again, in the exact same tone.

"I will make it up to you," she said. "I promise."

I was instantly more wary but said nothing.

"I must hunt," she said, "before our date tomorrow. The only way I can do that adequately is to leave. I must travel out of state with my sister, and I won't be back until morning."

"That's okay," I said. "When are you leaving?"

"Pretty much now," she said, wincing in a very human way.

"No!" I said before I could stop myself.

She laughed before she could stop herself.

"I mean, no," I said more quietly. "I mean, okay. I... I understand."

"You are very cute," she said, the endearing smile not helping much with my mood. Much. Okay, maybe more than a little.

"It isn't too far to walk home," I said. "I've certainly walked further."

Her face fell.

"I'm not going to make you walk!" she said over loud, then lowered her voice. "I apologize if I embarrassed you just now, but no, I'm not going to leave you without a ride. Your truck will be in its usual parking spot when you get out of school."

"Okay, but you're not leaving," I said.

She smiled, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yet," I said. "I mean yet. It won't matter if you leave now or after lunch."

Her expression became thoughtful.

"That doesn't seem like the healthiest way to go about it," she said, sounding a bit concerned.

I tilted my head at her, "How so?"

"You want ever minute you can to spend with me," she pointed out. "Aren't you afraid that you will lose yourself or your life in me and mine?"

I considered her words.

"No," I said. "I'm not concerned. Or afraid. I will do what I want to do. If it creates trouble for me, then I'll do something different. But I can't live my life trying to avoid doing everything that might result in doing something wrong. I'd drive myself crazy if I tried to do anything more than just exist."

She thought a moment too.

"You're right," she said, "mostly. I can't afford to make mistakes with you. If I do, you won't survive it."

I shake my head.

"It is possible for you not to be perfect," I said. "You can make mistakes that won't cause my death."

She considered, "Maybe. It depends heavily on what your definition of a mistake is."

"Huh," I replied. "Yeah. That's a good point. I guess, a mistake is anything that doesn't make you happy."

She laughed, "That's no good. After all, many addicts are perfectly happy to take their drug of choice."

I shake my head, "You're missing the point. Have you ever known a happy addict?"

She considers, more thoughtfully.

"I don't mean temporarily happy," I said, "or even less miserable. I mean genuinely, undeniably happy. Being with you makes me happy, but I'm not with you all the time. I have responsibilities; school, chores, being at home, talking to friends and family. I must be responsible too."

"So, how do you recognize a mistake?" she asked. "I mean, it's obvious that a lot of people have a hard time knowing when they have done something wrong."

"True," I said. "What do you think?"

She grinned at me, "Honesty, I think; being honest with yourself, really honest. And something else. Information maybe."

"Information?" I asked, confused.

"From others," she said. "Like input or advice or what have you."

"No," I said. "Trust. It's trust. People can tell you what's up all the live long day, but if you don't trust them, it won't matter."

She nodded.

As she did so, her sister walked up behind her. Alice smiled at me too.

"Hi Ben," she said, her tiny teeth gleaming and her petite frame managing to look graceful even though she was slouching.

"Hello, Alice," I said. I wondered what I should say next, then realized that she could see into the future. She knew all manner of things that I did not. She could know-

"I'm not telling you that," she said laughing. "You are going to have to see it through on your own."

I thought of the meadow, this weekend, and finally said, "What will you tell me then?"

She considered, and I watched Edwina's eyes go wide a moment, shock and fear flashing across her face.

"Behave yourself," she said. "I've always wanted a brother. And Rory doesn't count! He's way too much of a prima donna."

She took Edwina's hand and pulled her up.

"I will see you tomorrow," she said as Alice more or less dragged her way.

I was too caught up in what Alice said to really realize that Edwina was going until she was gone. As it was, I spent the rest of the day thinking it over.

Brother? What did that mean? I understood that the Cullens were adopted, that they weren't really related, that their family ties were a ruse to protect them against suspicion and speculation. How did someone go about joining their family? Did what she say imply that I could, that I would, or just that she wanted me to? Was this joining meant in the traditional human way, as in by marriage? That idea was enough to stun my brain and knot my insides for hours. But, a more frightening thought; what if joining their family was meant in a vampiric way? As in to become what they were...

I contemplated these thoughts in circles for the rest of the day, finding no satisfactory answers. I hadn't ever really thought about either possibility. Considering we had been on a single date, if dinner in Port Angeles even counted, it seemed way too early to be thinking about all of that. And, what with the way Edwina reacted when I asked how someone becomes a vampire, I was imagining that she had a very strong preference on that subject.

As I was walking out of Gym, I was surprised to see that my truck was where I usually parked it, just as she said it would be. It was unlocked, and the keys were in the ignition. On the steering wheel was a simple note of only two words; Be safe.

I folded her request and placed it in my breast pocket. It scared the peas out of me when I started my truck. In the nearly three days since I had driven it, I had forgotten just how loud the engine was. I rumbled my way home, being careful, if only to feel like she was still there with me. Before I got home, I couldn't help but marvel at just how quiet, the engine not withstand, and lonely it was without her.

When I got home, I rapidly found and ran out of things to do. Homework was done directly, and chores soon after that. I did extra cleaning, and the bathroom was soon as shinier and cleaner than it was the first day I got there.

At last, I got online and checked my email. I rarely got anything, other than letters from my dad. We had corresponded a few times back and forth since I had gotten here. I had told him about classes, mostly easy, and friends, mostly harmless, and reassured him that I didn't regret my decision in any way. He had said Felicia was doing well and he was happy, but he too didn't get a whole lot of details. I certainly didn't want any. But as I was reading over his most recent email, I had a sudden urge to talk to my dad.

The phone rang twice before my dad sort of slammed his way onto the line.

"Carrie?" he all but shouted, "Carrie? What happened now? What's wrong?"

"Whoa!" I said. "Dad! It's me. Calm down. Nothing's wrong!"

"Benji?" he asked, and I winced. He only called me that when he was really freaked out. "Why are you calling me from your mom's line? Did you lose your cell?"

"No, dad," I said, trying not to sound irritated. He was concerned.

"I just thought I'd use the land line," I said. "You know, save the minutes and all that."

"Oh," he said. "Well, gosh. How are you!? It's been, let's see, an eternity since we talked. Maybe two. How are you? Are you liking Forks?"

"Forks is fine," I said, "and I'm alright. Doing well in school, and I'm staying out of trouble."

"How many of the locals have fallen madly in love with you?" he teased.

"Don't remind me!" I said between gritted teeth.

"Ooh," he said. "That sounded like a nerve."

"There's this stupid dance," I said, trailing off.

"Stupid how?" he asked.

"It's... girl's choice," I said.

"Oh no," he said laughing.

He just got it. Dad was like that.

"How many?" he asked.

"Three," I said, and he laughed loudly.

"Three?" he wheezed.

I remembered Jocelyn, "No, four."

Then I thought of Edwina asking about if she had asked me, "And a half."

Dad was howling. I smiled a little.

"Any of them worth your time?" he asked.

"A couple," I said, "but I'm not going to the dance."

"Naturally not," he said. "Tell me about the couple, though. Two, really?"

"Not two," I said. "More like one and maybe another."

"Oh!" he said. "Why maybe the other?"

"I... Uh," I said. "I'm dating the first already."

There was a long silence.

"Dating?" Dad asked, the word quiet and drawn out. "You're _dating_? Oh good god. Does your mom know? What am I talking about? Of course, she does."

I winced, "I think she figured it out."

"There's a girl," he said. "How's this- Tell! Tell me! Tell me about the girl. I must know about the girl!"

"She-," I sort of exhaled laughed around a smile. "She really..."

"No!" Dad said. "It is not possible that this is happening to you and I'm not there! Why didn't you call me sooner?"

"Sooner?" I said. "Dad, I asked her out yesterday."

"But you like her!" he exclaimed. "You aren't just crushing on her. How does she feel about you?"

I wasn't sure. I mean, now that I had thought about it, it really wasn't something we had talked about. She was always happy to see me and wanted to be around me, but she hadn't said anything about how she felt in any way. She had a much better idea how I felt.

"She likes me too," I said, which was true enough.

"What's she like?" he asked. "Give me details."

"Well," I said. "She's smart. Gets all A's."

"Great," he said. "But she isn't a complete bookworm, right? She does things other than study?"

"Yeah," I said. "She adopted, has a pretty active family life. Four siblings, none related. They camp and hike and such."

"Oh cool," he said. "What does she look like?"

"Oh, I don't know," I said, trying to find appropriate words when talking to my Dad. "She a bit shorter than me, with sort of bronze colored hair. She's very pretty."

"Pretty to you," he asked, "or just pretty?"

"Both," I said with a quiet chuckle.

"Good answer," said Dad. "Boys ask her out a lot?"

"Not anymore," I said. "She doesn't usually date."

"Now there's a great sign," said Dad. "So what's to rub?"

"The rub?" I asked.

"The rub!" said Dad. "If it sounds too good to be true, it usually is. What's the bad news?"

I thought about it. What could I say?

"She thinks she doesn't deserve me," I said. "She's afraid that she's going to hurt me and if she thinks it's unavoidable, she'll leave me."

"Ouch," said Dad. "Well, I've dated worse."

"Ah!" I said, half joking, half adamant. "Rule Three, dad! Rule Three!"

"Oh hush!" he said. "You're going to give up on those rules some day, and you know it. Do you have a picture of her?"

"No," I said. I decided I wanted to change that.

"When are you bringing her home to meet your mom?" he asked. He sounded entertained by the idea.

"I don't know," I said, wincing. "Soon, I guess. It's no good tip-toeing around it if we both know that she knows, and know that I know that she knows."

"Why aren't you talking to your mom about her?" he asked.

I thought about it for a long time.

"I don't know," I said.

"Sure you do," he said. "Just say it."

"I'm..." I said hesitating, then I just said it. "I'm afraid that mom will say it wrong to feel about her the way that I do. That you will, too."

My dad sighed in that way that made me think he still considered me his little boy.

"Buddy," he said gently. "What you do, what you feel, doesn't matter one lick compared to anyone else but you. It's your life. It's your feelings. What you need to do is figure out if what you do or feel is best for you. No one can do that for you. No can do it but you. But whatever you do, don't getting into anything you can't get out of before you're ready. Granted, if I hadn't married your mom, I won't have had you. Pregnancy and marriage are huge, big, ginormous steps, and they, or activities that lead to them, should not be taken lightly."

"Dad!" I complained, more heat in my voice than I expected from my thoughts of marriage today.

"We haven't been going out for forty-eight hours," I said. "We both agreed that sex isn't something we want to do impulsively and we are going to take things slow. And it's a little early to be thinking about marriage."

"I know," he said, capitulating, "I know. But just keep in mind; there will be other girls. Don't do anything you might regret because you think you'll only get the one."

"Got it," I said.

"And for god sake!" he said. "Notice what she wears! And what she does with her hair! Girls don't do either of those things by accident!"

"Okay," I said, half angry, half laughing.

"And if you realize your foot is in your mouth," he said, "take it out and move on! She will think better of you if you do it with confidence."

"Dad!" I laughed.

"And you absolutely must call me after your first kiss and every date," he said. "Unless... Wait! Have you kissed her yet?!"

"I'm hanging up now, Dad," I said.

"I love you!" he said loudly. "Bring a condom to every date!"

I hung up and turned around to see Carrie walking it.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"Just Dad," I said.

"Oh," she said, putting up her gear. "Talking about your girlfriend?"

"Mom," I said starting to head upstairs. "She's not my girlfriend."

"Fine," Mom said. "She's..."

She trailed off as I closed the door to my room.

We had pizza for dinner. She didn't say a single thing. Neither did I. I pretty much did everything I could to kill time. I cleaned the kitchen, despite the lack of meal cooked. I watched television with my mom, which was a first. I went upstairs and organized my closet by color, then by style of clothing, then by frequency of use.

I realized shortly after eleven that I was stalling and finally got ready for bed. I showered, cleaning myself thoroughly, twice. I considered showering again when I got up. Finally, dressed in freshly laundered sleepwear, I got in bed and preceded to stare at the ceiling for what felt like the next couple of hours. I was considering taking cough medicine to knock myself out when I finally drifted off to sleep.

When I awoke the next morning, I though she was already there. I don't know why, but as soon as I was awake, I turned towards to foot of my bed, as I had turned that morning towards the bed of my truck, and expected to meet her eyes. When I didn't, I felt let down, as though I might have still been dreaming, a dream that had not yet left me. I got up.

I was more than simply jittery. I ate breakfast quickly, brushed my teeth again after the meal, tried to do something with my hair other than comb it in the usual fashion, and decided that was a lost cause and simply tried to undo what I had done. I had decided against the shower again, but still had wet hair when I went back downstairs and found the note from Carrie. She had gone out fishing with friends in La Push and would be back late. It was then that I realized that I was still wearing what I had slept in, and after three attempts to put together something marginally fashionable, I put on a white button-up shirt, khaki pants, and a light sweater, in case it became warm enough that I could take it off. As I came downstairs, I wondered how I might explain my truck still being here if I was supposed to be driving to Seattle when there was a knock at the door. I trotted down and opened, and there she was.

She had on boots that she could easily hike in, tan, well-fitted cargo pants, a white button-up shirt and a dark green vest. Her hair was pulled tightly back, leaving her face stark and apparent and her neck bare.

She laughed, and I was momentarily lost in how lovely the sounds was.

"What?" I asked. I checked to make sure something wasn't inside out or backward or unzipped. It was then that I realized we matched, mostly. My sweater and her vest weren't the same green, but it wasn't too far off.

I smiled, sort of liking that.

"Hi," she said, radiant.

"Hi," I said, eager and suddenly shy.

I was about to invite her in and offer her something but then realized how stupid that was. My brain jumped at the fact that we were here, together, and alone, and a whirlwind of possibilities blurred through my mind.

We had been standing there for several minutes. She didn't seem to mind at all, but I was starting to wonder if she was just humoring me.

"I missed you," slipped out of my mouth, and her smile seemed to bloom somehow.

"I missed you intently," she said, "but now, we're here."

"Shall we go?" I asked, starting to feel awkward.

"Let's," she said stepping aside.

I stepped out and locked up. Turning, I realized that her car wasn't here.

"I'm driving?" I asked.

She grinned, "If you like. I thought a change might be nice."

Something about how she said it stuck me.

"Really?" I asked.

She looked sideways at me, "Very well; Alice made a suggestion."

I snorted a laugh, "You could have just said so."

I opened her door for her, which wasn't so easy in my truck. She slipped in and I went around. I started up the truck and we pulled off.

"Just take Highway 101 north to Highway 110," she said. "There is a trail at the end of 110."

Something about her voice and posture made me think she was nervous.

"Is it my driving or my truck?" I asked.

Her smile became rather stilted, "Both."

I laughed, "I'll get us there in one piece. Don't worry."

We finally parked at the trail she mentioned, and we got out.

"As much as I would like to keep your arm," she said, "we are going to be off-trail and you might want to focus more on your own walking."

"We're going off-trail?" I asked rather bemusedly. "I hope we don't have to be there until tomorrow."

"It won't take that long," she said, rolling her eyes. "I could always carry you."

I scowled, "Let's just go."

We started making out way through the underbrush. After a few minutes, I had forgotten her teasing and was focused on what I was doing. A few minutes after that, I was uncomfortable with all the silence.

"Do you go out into the woods often?" I asked.

"Sure," she said. "All the time. There probably isn't a person alive who knows the area here as well as I do, but it helps to have the perceptions and memory I do. Speaking of which, why did you go into the woods?"

I came up short, which was good because I almost clipped myself in the face with a branch.

"I did?" I asked. "When?"

"Not exactly sure," she said. "A week ago, give or take twelve hours or so."

I thought about it, "Oh! Right. Um... I needed to get away to think."

"Away from what?" she asked, the eager curiosity on her again.

"Reality," I said. "Real life. Sanity. Normalcy. I had this bomb dropped on me, this information that any logic person would have thought was crazy. I needed to be away from what was normal to really think about it, to be unbiased."

"Ah," she said. "I guess that makes sense. Josie told you?"

I tripped. She caught me, carefully, without any discomfort, at least physically.

"How-?" I asked. My mind was racing. There were only two possibilities. One, the Cullens were not respecting the treaty, which I found highly unlikely, or two, she was there Thursday night. She was closer to me, paying closer attention to me, than I would have thought.

I looked at her, and it was obvious that she was hesitant but unrepentant. She did not feel what she did was wrong, but she was worried how I would react.

"Why?" I asked. Looking her full in the face. She tried to keep walking, but I didn't move. Eventually, she came back.

"Why?" I asked again.

"Why what?" she asked.

I looked at her, considering.

"You're afraid," I said.

She stood straighter, "Yes."

"Why are you afraid?" I asked.

"Because I have been intrusive," she said. "I have been behaving unconscionably, like the monster I am."

My mouth quirked at one corner.

"Well, then," I said, "you have nothing to worry about."

She looked unamused.

"Edwina," I said, "I don't care. I mean, well, I'm not exactly thrilled by the fact that you've been misleading me, but I get it. The only issue is, I can't really know you this way. I will never know you until you tell me everything, and not just the parts of you that you are comfortable sharing."

She frowned, but it was only in an attempt to cover a smile.

"You're suggesting that I should come clean?" she asked.

I looked over at her, "Do you need to?"

"Oh," she said, her words heavy, overburdened with resonant and emphasizing its meaning, "yes!"

Given those words said that way, I was expecting her to do so directly, but instead she said nothing as we kept walking. Or rather kept hiking. The terrain became more and more rough, requiring more and more attention. At first, her assistance with brush and shifting rocks was annoying, but it soon became obvious that without her help, we would be held up, especially if I rolled an ankle or fell and broken an arm or something.

After what felt like the rest of the morning, I was starting to wonder how much further we would have to go when the woods before began to brighten. At long last, we entered the meadow.

It was a wonder to behold. Even in the partial cloud cover, it was a bright place. The tree curved around a large section of it, feeling protective rather than constraining. One side opened up to the mountainside, giving a fantastic view. The meadow was dotted here and there with colonies of tiny flowers, pretty and simple, but mostly composed of soft grass that didn't look at all itchy or scratchy. I found myself wondering why we didn't bring food.

I was about to walk further into the meadow when she spoke for the first time since her fierce words.

"If you would," she said, "wait there a moment, please."

I remained where I was.

She walked to a point several strides away, standing still a moment.

"You remember I mentioned that I couldn't go to school until Thursday, why we are here?" she asked rhetorically.

I nodded, somehow knowing that she would know, even though she wasn't facing me. She was pointed towards the retreating clouds, towards the sun, her back to me.

She shifted, and the fleece vest fell to the grass behind her. I recognized the motions of her arms and shoulders, the slow and careful unbuttoning of her shirt. She pulled the simple tie out of her hair, letting it spring free. And then, as the cloud rolled away from the sun, she slipped the shirt off her shoulders, letting it fall to the earth.

For a long moment, I forgot how to breathe. Sun washed over her skin, shining like concentrated starlight, glittering like diamonds. She basked in it, letting it bathe her, the light mesmerizing, wondrous to behold. Slowly she turned, looking at me.

Her face, lined like gems, was nervous, almost frightened.

I started to feel dizzy. I fell to my knees, and the impact rattled me, jump starting my ability to breathe.

"You're..." I barely let slip my lips. "You're beautiful."

She glowed like an angel, despite her dismay. My eyes swept down her curves, now no longer hinted behind clothing and coats, contoured and contrasted in alabaster shadow and glimmering refracted sunshine.

She folded her arms beneath the white sports bra, making the motion look vulnerable and powerful at the same time with her undeniable grace.

"I," she said, her voice low and as glorious as her face and form, "am the worst kind of monster. Nothing about me warns of your impending doom. Does any part of me repel you? I am glorious in the sun, a goddess, an angel, and a seductress in shadow. My face compels you closer, my voice guides you to me. Even my smell is enticing. In stillness I am graceful, and in motion, I am exquisite. As though I need any of this for my hunt."

She vanished.

It startled me more than I would have thought possible. I looked around, finally spotting her at the far end of the meadow. As soon as I was sure it was her, again she was gone. I found her at the other end of the meadow, and again she vanished.

"Could you escape me?" she asked from directly behind me.

I fell forward, scrabbling away from her, suddenly frightened, conscious decisions giving way to instinct and self-preservation.

"Try," she said, and promptly vanished again.

Before I could think what to do, her hand caressed the side of my face. The sensation was so incongruous with what I was feeling that I recoiled, once again afraid at how easily she had done so, without me hearing a thing, without me seeing, without me knowing.

I felt her pass, slowing enough that I just made her out, feeling her hand lightly on my chest in passing, gone before I could to push that limb away.

Without thinking, I ran and didn't make it six steps before I tripped. Whether it was her or me, I'll never know, but I do know that it was her when my leg was suddenly pulled around. The force was strangely constant, not jarring or sudden, but I found myself spinning through the air. I could do nothing, but my momentum suddenly slowed, pitching me to roll, not even turning a full rotation before I settled.

She caught me again, lifting me to my feet, holding me by my shirt. I got the impression that with minimal effort, she could extend her arm and drag my feet from the ground. I could see her face, and what before had been a calm mask was now the look of a predator. True fear ripped through me. It made her face come to life.

"I..." she said. "I want you."

I found myself rolling across the meadow, not nearly as gentle as before, but not enough to damage me.

"I want you," she hissed coming towards me, not blindingly fast, but with an unflappable determination.

I got to my feet, ready to run, to fight, to struggle. And then, I got it. I understood. She was about to fail. She was a vampire, and some part of her, and I had no idea how large a part, thirsted for my blood. She was trying to get me to understand, and she was so very close to going too far. And there was nothing I could do. I couldn't escape. If she went through with killing me, there was absolutely no way I could stop her. This... could very well be my last moments on Earth, alive.

And, if that was true, there was only one thing I couldn't live without doing before I died.

She approached me, her focus inexorable. She didn't even blink. And, unlike before, I didn't resist. I didn't back away. I didn't try to flee. I walked at her with equal determination. She sort of stumbled, came up short a bit, as though I was not at all doing what she expected. I closed with her, my hands taking her face. Putting faith in her, literally put my life, my finally moments completely in her hands, I put my lips to hers.

She stopped, becoming utterly still. I kept my eye closed, though not tightly. My arms fell about her waist. She did not move. After a moment, I pulled her a bit closer. Her torso shifted as pliably as could be expected from any human girl, her hard hips bumping mine. I gathered her to me, my hand finding the small of her back, gentling her, climbing their way up bare skin and cloth to find the tips of her hair. Then, I moved my lips against hers.

She jerked, as though shocked, momentarily moving as though to pull away, but then rebounding back. Slowly, almost as though weighted, her arms lifted, brushing the sweater about the inside of my arms and my chest, finally closing her hands about my jaw, her fingers in my hair, her thumbs up the side of my face.

She made a sound, a cry through our kiss, equally parts pain and exultation as she finally broke past her confinements and met me in passion, kissing me back with an entirely uncontrolled and restrained exuberance that left me feeling delightfully battered. We collapsed to the grassy ground, her forehead pressed to mine as we lay on our sides.

"I knew you could do," I whispered. "I knew it. I knew it."

She touched my hair and face, her actions reverent, and face so very torn.

"You trusted me," she said. "You saw what I am and you trusted me."

I nodded, "I love you."

Her eyes found mine. The look that crossed her face was amazed and amazing. She kissed me again.

"I love you," she said. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to say that to you and have you believe it. And here you go and tell me that you love me first!"

"How long?" I ask. She just smiles at me.

"How long?" I ask again.

She laughed, "Really, it's only been eight and a half days, but it feels considerably longer."

I did the math. It took me a moment.

"Wait," I said. "What happened in the middle of the night Thursday?"

She looked very shy and excited.

"You said my name in your sleep," she said.

I was suddenly bright red and I knew it.

She laughed, "I just admitted to spying on you, and you're embarrassed..."

"You've been waiting to say it since then?" I asked, more mumbled.

"I've known it was true then," she said. "I loved you since the day of the accident. For a long time, I didn't want to admit it."

"Why?" I asked, my voice quiet.

"Because," she said, "even now, I want to kill you. I just want you alive more. You deserve someone better than that, than someone who simply doesn't want to kill you more than they want to keep you."

I thought about that, "Why?"

"Because you are the best person I've ever know," she said matter-of-factly.

"No!" I said, my cheeks pink. "I mean, why do you want to kill me so much?"

She touched my face, her finger cool.

"Have you ever done something you know you shouldn't?" she asked. "You believe that doing something would give you what you want or get you what you think you want, but in the end, you just end up unsatisfied?"

I thought about it.

"Yeah," I said. "As a kid, one year I ate my entire haul of Halloween candy in the middle of the night. I was so sick, I couldn't be around kids eating candy until after Valentine's day."

She grinned at my recollection.

"I want to kill you even though I know better," she said, "because my body responses to you. From the moment I met you, your scent has drawn me to you with more strength than anyone I have ever met before. Imagine wanting that candy, but wanting it so badly, entertaining murder is not only acceptable, it is little more than an afterthought. Imagine wanting it with magnitudes more desire than any addict that has ever lived. When I met you, it was as though I was suddenly going through withdrawal from a substance that had been created solely for my own dependency."

"So, I'm your personal drug?" I asked.

"You are," she said, with perhaps a touch of admiration. "If I were a lesser monster, one who gives into to her baser needs, there isn't a length I wouldn't go to, a barrier that would stop me, a cost I wouldn't gladly pay to kill you."

I nodded, "So, you're a better person than you believe yourself to be."

She stared at me and didn't reply.

"You are getting it now, right?" I asked. "You are better than that. You have a choice. Monsters don't. They kill because it is what they want. You want to be better more."

She looked deep into my eyes, "I want to be worthy of you more."

I touched her face with my hand. Her eyelids fluttered shut. I stroked her cheek, her chin, up again to her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, across her other cheek, around her jawline, her throat, around to the back of her hair, down her neck, across her shoulder to her collarbone, across the exposed skin over her chest. I jumped to her arm, skating a fingertip along it's outer edge, folding my hand down around the smooth contours of her forearm.

Her breath escaped her, her eyes remained heavy-lidded.

"That feels..." she said. "There aren't words."

I could feel the slightest, most infinitesimal give to her flesh.

"How can you move," I asked, "and still feel so solid?"

Her tiny smile quirked. She drew her own finger across her skin, and I watched as it bowed and shifted, as human flesh would under another's touch.

"To others of my kind," she said, "I am not so hard, so cold."

And then, for the first, I knew that I want it. I wanted to be like her. I wanted to touch her and feel her warmth, her softness. I wouldn't be as fragile as I was now, more resilient. I could keep up with her, stand beside her, be her equal. Forever.

I pressed a hand against her stomach, dragging the back of my nail up and around her side, again fitting my hand to her symmetry.

"You..." she said, her precise voice somewhat at odds with her expression, "are walking a very fine line."

"How?" I asked.

"You have no idea how good that feels," she said. "I want so desperately to touch you back, but I daren't. I won't risk you."

"You won't?" I asked, a slip of teasing in my tone.

Her brow knitted, almost comically so.

"No," she said, almost suspicious.

I shift, as though to begin moving away from her.

"No!" she protested in near desperation, moving as though to catch me back to her, but as I shifted, I did return to her, only lower. Away from easier reach, I drew my lips to her skin, kissing her just where her lowest ribs met her sternum.

She gasped, bowing up under me, arching against the sensation, instantaneously upon her back, as though to pull away and yet urge towards me in one motion. I continued, since, for all her movements, the small spot of skin beneath my lips stayed relatively still. I lightly landed little kisses upon her, wondering what might happen if I should lance my tongue across the landscape of her lithe frame. She cast her head back, arched back the other way, concave beneath my mouth, her fingers digging into the grass for support, though likely not simply the physical kind.

Another moment later, she was gone. I looked up to see her on the other side of the meadow, as she stood so still, if I had not known, I wouldn't have thought her a person at all.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, somehow knowing that she heard me.

"No," she said, loud enough for her voice to carry to me. "A moment, if you please."

I counted in my head. About a minute later, she moved. She crossed to where her clothing lay and retrieved her shirt. Slipping back into it, she buttoned just enough so that the sports bra appeared to be a second shirt, and left the vest in her hand as she came back to sit beside me. She didn't bother maintaining mortal speeds, coming to settle beside me in an instant.

"I'm very sorry," she said. "I let myself get carried away. You were, quite exquisitely, tempting me to be... less inhibited. I was becoming unsure if I was going to kiss you or kill you or both."

"Should I not?" I asked, feeling embarrassed.

She considered, "Maybe. Why were you doing that?"

"I don't know," I said. "Because I wanted to."

"Why did you want to?" she asked, curiosity ablaze in her eyes.

I thought about it.

"Huh," I said. "I guess, I really wasn't doing it because I wanted to be all sexy or anything. I guess I was just doing it because it was fun to tease you, to get you all riled up. I wasn't doing it for any other reason that I can think of."

She considered, her breathing even. Then she approached me. Her motions were slow, in a way that suggested that she was savoring what she was doing rather than purely for the sake of caution. She pushed me back on my elbows, straddling my legs, her weight barely touching me as she cradled my head in her cupped hands, leaning over me, looking into my eyes.

"I'm in love with you," she said, her words deep and fervent. "I've been in love with you since the day of the accident, if not before then. That morning, when I saw that van coming for you, I didn't think. I cast aside everything, disregarding all that kept me and mine safe, for you. When I realized that, I couldn't admit to myself how much you meant to me because I never thought I'd get to have you. I always assumed that this would be one-sided, that no matter what, any admiration you might have for me would always be a shallow thing, and that you, despite all appearances to the contrary, would just be another typical human, willing to give of yourself in order to get what you wanted, and that you would flee as soon as you could no longer delude yourself about who and what I really am."

She touched my lips with cool, gentle fingers.

"How stupid I was!" she laughed. "I tried so hard to stay away from you, for my own fear as well as your protection. But I couldn't deny myself forever. My plan would have worked perfectly if you weren't a person and my feelings didn't really exist. But I loved you, and it drove me crazy; the thought that if I did nothing, another might come to you. Even if those vapid, selfish children who asked you to the dance were only interested in themselves, a day would come when someone who come along, who you could and would be with, who would give you everything I wanted to give you and everything I wanted to give you and couldn't."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to take this pained look off of her face. I wanted to reassure, to comfort, to show that I cared. But I wouldn't interrupt her for the world.

"I was going to leave," she said. "I believed that I would find nothing here but pain, selfish delusion, and misery, a lifetime of watching from the wings, for how could anyone like you want a thing like me?"

She smiled, her self-deprecations an amusement in retrospect.

"And then," she went on, "when I slinked into your room in the night, unable to resist when I heard you talking in your sleep, you said my name. You begged me to stay. And in that moment, everything changed."

She leaned forward, her eyes fluttering shut, holding me carefully, her smiling lips on mine soft, if in function and not form.

"I told you," she continued, "that we are constant creatures. But, in truth, we can change. The only thing powerful enough to change us is a change of the heart. We love deeply, powerfully, and constantly. The night I fell, the night I realized I loved you and that you might want me in return, everything changed for me. I knew that I loved you, though whether you truly loved me in return didn't matter. I would love you forever, and nothing would ever change that."

I didn't know what to say. I sat there, looking back at her, feeling suddenly out of place. What could I say to that? The way she spoke about me made no sense.

"Hey," she said, stroking my chin. "Where did you go?"

"Away," I said, almost mechanically.

"Why?" she asked gently.

"Edwina," I said, finally looking into her eyes. "I am mortal. I am but a child, no doubt, to you. I am flawed and dangerous for you to be near. I am finite and lost, unsure of just about everything about myself and my life. The only sure thing I have ever known is that you are the best and more worthy person I have ever know and could ask for. And I love you. I mean, seriously, me being here is pretty much proof that I am willing to risk my life just to spend time with you. But in the end, how could anything I do compare to you? Our relationship is doomed to be one-sided. What could I ever do compared with what you can do? How could I ever be good enough for you?"

Of all the ways she could have reacted, I never would have thought that she would have the way she did; she laughed.

"You are almost as big an idiot as I am!" she said, falling back and rolling in the grass beside me. "I worry about that every day. Fathom this for me; you don't care that I am a vampire."

"Yeah, so?" I asked, feeling somewhat disgruntled.

"'So?'!" she cried. "SO!? I am a mythical creature, a damned monster. I have murdered, I drink blood. I have committed more sins in my past than most humans commit in two lifetimes."

"And?" I asked. "That doesn't matter to me."

"Exactly!" she said, pointing at me. "You have confessed it! It matters naught to you what I have done, who I have wronged, what I am. You see me, truly, and still have faith and trust in me. You care for me, who I am, what I want, earnestly and honestly. You love me. How could I ever deserve that?!"

"You deserve it," I said. "You deserve more-"

"Than what?" she demanded. "Than that!? Do you have any idea how much that is worth?"

"No," I said, thinking about it. "I hadn't really thought about it. I mean, you have that from me, and you always will. It isn't exactly like I would do anything differently even if I could. It is just... what I have to offer, what I want to offer. It doesn't cost me anything to give this to you."

"Except maybe your life," she said solemnly.

"And I accept that," I said. "I don't mean that in any sort of worthless way, as though my life means so little. I don't want to die, but I don't really see much of a point to a life without you."

She kissed me again. This time, it wasn't so light. She was not rough with me, as she had been before. She seemed more prepared for it, more in control. At least at first. My head had been full of her all day, and her scent had clung to me. And her body had been close to me, touching mine, all day. I felt something building in me, something that I had unconsciously fought against bringing out, but the passion she kissed me with pushed me over the edge.

I clung to her, suddenly unable to get enough air into me, taking ragged breaths as I tugged at her, feeling the coldness of her mingle with my heat as I ran my hands up her bare arms, catching her shirt only because I wished nothing was between us, wanting nothing but her and me and only air between us, if not less.

In a blinding flash, she was across the meadow, still again, as before, and I realized that I had pushed her too far.

"Oops," I said, trying to calm myself, as she obviously did the same.

"I'm sorry," I said, again, pitching my voice quiet. "I guess I got carried away."

At long last, she returned, taking up my hand and putting it to her face.

"I am so very sorry," she said. "I am not perfect, and you tantalize me so very much. I shouldn't let myself get so carried away."

"It was my fault. Alice warned me even..." I began, but she cut me off.

"It is no one's fault, Benjamin," she said, and for once, my full name didn't bother me so much.

I put my arms around her, looking deep into her eyes, watching the sun flicker against her skin.

"I love you," I said, she kissed me again, once, easy, and sweet.

"And I you," she said back to me.

It was an incandescent moment, one that I would remember for the rest of my life, and eternal moment that could still somehow end. But I lived in it, as long as it would have me, perfect, together, with her.


	13. Chapter 13: Girlfriend

I didn't remember falling asleep. Such a thing would have seemed embarrassing but I was so comfortable with her, and lying there in the warmth and with her cool embrace, I just sort of dozed. I wasn't sleeping very deeply, but enough so that I lost a moment or two before I awoke fully.

"Wow, that was dumb," I said, finding my head curled on her lap.

"No it wasn't," she said gently, smoothing my hair.

"Yeah, it was," I said. "I hate the idea of missing any time with you."

She kissed my forehead, "Again, not stupid."

My stomach growled. She laughed.

"It seems you can't escape being what you are," she commented.

"Not yet, anyway," I muttered. "Do we have to leave?"

She smiled, "I don't think you'll find much out here that you can eat."

"True," I said. "I wished I thought about that earlier, but I was only thinking about you and getting here."

"I wonder," she said, thinking of something that left her face awash in subtle emotions.

"What?" I asked.

"Would you like to get back faster?" she asked.

"Faster?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "I move faster than you. I was wondering, if you wouldn't mind, if I could carry you."

Her tone was almost shy and inviting, but I still felt nervous at her request.

"Carry me?" I asked.

"Yes," she affirmed, "on my back. I could move quickly, getting back to the truck much faster. And, you could see how it is to move like me."

I was instantaneously torn. It sounded fascinating, but I was very nervous, for a few different reasons.

"Oh come on," she fussed, sounding very much like a teenage girl. "You aren't any less of a person for being incapable of doing something that I can, nor are you less masculine for being carried by me. Climb on my back, and I will have you back to your truck in a moment."

I couldn't exactly argue with that, any part of it. I came up to her, and she turned her back to me. For a moment, I wanted to curve my hands about her hips, nuzzling her hair aside and finding her neck with my mouth. She let out a breathy chuckle, which focused me surprisingly well.

I draped my arms around her shoulders, carefully, trying to find some way to rest myself upon her frame in a way that wouldn't bruise me or be uncomfortable. It turned out to be easier than I thought, and with a little jostle, she settled me into place and hooked her arms under my legs with little effort. I set my head beside hers, and she turned and kissed my cheek before turning and accelerating into the woods.

It was, impossible to see. The woods became nothing so much as a riot of browns and greens around us. Distance and time seemed to lose all meaning, and despite the rush of wind that I felt, the trek was so smooth that I couldn't tell we were moving at all.

And then, it was done. We stood beside my truck, back in less time than I would have thought possible. A hike that had taken hours was done in less than as many minutes.

I couldn't move. There was something about this, something that felt so impossible, becoming real, tactile, visceral that made me feel completely disconnected from myself, from reality.

"Are you okay?" she asked, sounding young and a bit unsure.

"Fine," was all I could manage.

She was silent for some span of time.

"Would you like to climb down?" she asked.

"Sure," came out of lips that didn't feel like my own.

More silence.

"Um," I tried, "I can't..."

She chuckled quietly, but it had a nervous edge to it. She firmly yet carefully pulled my arms apart from each other, clasped together around her. She settled me back to my feet, flashing around to support me. With a combined effort, I was soon sitting on the ground, my head between my knees, taking slowly and deep breaths.

"This... is dignified..." I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster without sounding obnoxious.

"Are you truly alright?" she asked, sounding worried. "I could take you to my mother..."

"No!" I said, nearly falling to one side as I quickly straightened. She caught me. Yay, even less dignity.

"No," I said, feeling a bit more myself. "I'm just not used to... that. My body is still trying to figure out what is real again."

"I can help with that," she said, her hands and voice inviting me to stand.

She pulled me gently to my feet, holding me steadily as I swayed. She felt good and solid beside me. She leaned forward slowly.

"Don't move, please," she said, I was as still as I could be.

She held my head with one hand, the other at my back. With a light touch, she drew a line of tiny kisses from the corner of my jaw to where my collar bone met my sternum, then began working her way outward along my collarbone until my sweater and shirt began interfering, which she growled quietly that turned into a quiet laugh. I don't think I had ever been more present in my life.

"Head still fuzzy," I said, half-joking. "Maybe more would..."

I gripped her hips, holding her so tightly, I risked bruising myself. From the look in her eyes, I was pushing her in a dangerous direction.

"Or not," I said. I tried to take a step back from her and wobbled. She caught me.

"Looks like I'm driving," she said, her hand sliding into my pocket. Given our recent proximity, her hand in my pants was quite close to resulting in some rather embarrassing repercussions.

"Hey, whoa!" I said, trying to step back again. I nearly fell, and she went back to propping me up.

"I can give you my keys," I said. "You don't need to go digging in my pockets."

She quirked an eyebrow in a truly alluring way, "You're not going to argue?"

"Whether or not I was going to," I said, a bit hotly, "it is my choice to do so. I make my decisions, remember?"

She smiled, "You're right. I'm sorry, Love."

My face relaxed, "What was that?"

"Love?" she asked.

"Yeah," I nodded, smiling. "I think I could get used to that."

She kissed me, and it was playful, gentle, and happy.

"That was making it up to you," she said with a gorgeous smile.

"Making what up to me?" I asked.

She held up my keys.

I found it very hard to maintain my appropriate level of fury.

"You little..." I sputtered, "sneak!"

She crowed with laughter, unlocking the truck and opening my door. I tried to get there on my own but still needed a hand before I got halfway. She supported me to the truck, and once I was seated, she went around to her own door and got in.

She settled back in the driver's seat and I was surprised to see that she fit there. Despite her designer clothes, she looked at home in the old truck, comfortable, running her hand to settle across the back of the seat, driving the old vehicle like she had been doing it all her life, maybe a farmer's daughter or the child of a bygone era from the truck's youth. She really was a mythical creature.

I settled into her arm, relaxed as she commanded my truck with more precision and care than I thought I ever could.

"How old are you?" I asked.

She tried to hide her smile, "Not scared this time?"

"No," I said. "I would have to say my fears around you are very different than they were before. My biggest fear now is you leaving."

I didn't tack on because I wasn't good enough for her. What would be the point?

"Mine is the same," she said. "Granted for different reasons, methinks."

I waited.

She sighed, a bit playfully, "I was born the twentieth of June in nineteen oh one."

I did the math, "You're..."

"Nearly a hundred and four," she said. "Yes."

"Wow," I said thickly. "I can't imagine. I mean, I sort of can, but I've only experience seventeen years and that feel pretty normal to me."

I suddenly grinned, "You ever worry about being a cradle robber?"

She laughed, "Of all the things to worry about, that one never crossed my mind."

"When did you become a vampire?" I asked. If she felt uncomfortable by my question, she didn't show it.

"I was changed in the September of nineteen eighteen," she said, "shortly after my seventeenth birthday."

"Wow," I smiled, "forever young."

She rolled her eyes, "Of all the things to fixate on, my appearance has never been one of them. I have always been interested in... other things."

"Such as?" I asked, feeling curious myself.

She noticed my expression and laughed loudly.

"In my youth," she said, "The Great War was in full swing. Being a woman was of no concern to me; I wanted to fight. I wanted to stride off to glorious war and fight for what I believed to be right, to have such faith in my conviction that I cowed my enemies and brought Divine truth to those who would prop up fear and lies as gospel. I considered many options, for I was not content to be anything but a soldier, and that was impossible in that time without subterfuge. Had I and my family not been met with the Spanish Influenza, I might have fought and died in the war."

"Tell me," I said as we made a turn on the highway.

"We were living in Chicago," she said, "during the outbreak. We were sent to the hospital fairly early on. Katherine was working in one at the time, working as continuously as she could without drawing suspicion to herself for her lack of rest. She was alone then and was thinking of creating a companion for herself. I was in the final days of my life, the sole remainder of my family, when she changed me."

"What was it like?" I asked.

Finally, she looked uncomfortable, but I couldn't tell if it was at my questions or her memory.

"Painful," she said, the expression obvious upon her face. "It is the most painful experience I have ever felt, more painful than the idea of losing you. You are forced to endure such pain, more anguish than you could ever imagine, for three contiguous days. After that, you are an immortal and everything changes."

"You're worried about me knowing about this," I said, knowing that more intuitively than from her current expression.

"Yes," she said in return.

"Why?" I asked.

She sighed, "That is an involved and complex question."

"No, look," I said jokingly, "there is only one word, with three letters. It's not that hard; why?"

It worked. She smiled.

"A few different reasons," she said. "One, it is dangerous, and even if that risk is very small, I don't like risking you so opening and intentionally. Two, it is not something that can be undone, and as much as I would wish not to belittle you, you're very young and could easily change your mind about such a choice. Three, what I am is monstrous, and I would not wish that upon anyone who had another choice. And lastly, I could never, ever be so selfish as to risk your soul just so I could perhaps keep you forever."

There was a long silence.

"I never said anything about me becoming a vampire," I commented. "I asked why you were worried about me knowing about you changing."

She looked as though I had just slammed my hand in the car door.

"I..." she stammered for the first time since I had known her. "I..."

I shook my head.

"Freudian much?" I asked, laughing. This relaxed her, and she laughed too.

"I realize this topic upsets you," I said. "It is important to me that we enjoy the rest of our evening. But it is something I do want to talk about, another time. Okay?"

She nodded, "Okay."

When we pulled up to my place again, the sun was just setting.

"We could always still go-" she started, and I cut her off.

"I swear," I said, my voice nearly cracking, "if you mention that dance, I will never..."

I tried to think of something that was sufficiently bad without me giving up something I wanted or was something I couldn't follow through with.

"I will never forgive you for eavesdropping on my conversation with Josie," I finished.

She looked sideways at me as we got out of the truck.

"I was unaware that you hadn't," she commented as our doors slammed.

"I never said I had," I pointed out.

"True," she agreed.

I opened the door to my house and we walked it.

"Do I need to apologize for that?" she asked.

"Whether you apologize or not is incidental," I said back. "The important part is whether or not I forgive you."

"I have not mentioned that of which we'll not speak of," she said. "By your own admission, that is grounds for you forgiving me."

"Your logic is flawed," I said. "If a cause happens that prevents an effect, the effect is not guaranteed to happen if the cause doesn't."

"Now you are just arguing semantics," she said. "I could try and persuade you."

"How is that even fair?" I demanded, realizing that I was talking rather than eating, even though I was just this side of starving.

"It isn't?" she asked.

"I have seen your ability to twist people around your finger should you so choose," I reminded her. "I am also aware of how enticing you can be. I have no way of rebuffing that. I mean, I could, but why would I ever want to?"

"So," she said, leaning on the counter, lounging girlishly the way she had for Mr. What-his-name, the office attendant on the first day I met her, "you admit that you would willingly forgive me, so there is no point in arguing the point, is there?"

I pulled a few slices of cold pizza out of the frig and slapped them on a plate bound for the microwave.

"You could try apologizing," I said, punching buttons.

"You said it was incidental," she complained in a not very serious tone.

"If you are only apologizing so I will forgive you, what's the point?" I asked.

She moved around the counter towards me, slowly.

"I could think of a reason or two," she said, starting to get closer to me.

"I am eating!" I said almost squeakily, taking the food out before the timer was done. She laughed as I took the plate to the table. She sat in the chair opposite me, where my mother usually sat.

"Are you sure that's enough food?" she asked. "I could make you something."

"You can cook?" I asked.

She grinned proudly, "Of course. It isn't hard to learn."

"Maybe another time," I said.

After a few bites, I said, "You aren't sorry?"

"No," she said. "Or rather, I don't regret it. I can't not listen at times, and I didn't do what I did maliciously. I was just more eager to see you again than usual, and I couldn't wait."

"You had just left me," I stated, "and you were going to pick me up the next morning."

She laughed, "Oh no! There's no way I could have waited that long."

I was confused. She made it sound like this was an abnormally long time to wait, as opposed to the usual amount of time.

"I don't understand," I said.

"Oh I spent most nights here," she said.

It took me a moment to notice that I had dropped the pizza that had only made it halfway to my mouth.

"Here where?" I stuttered. "Here here?"

"Not at this table," she said easily, "but in this house, yes."

"But, um," I continued, "why?"

"Because you are here," she said simply. "What could the rest of the world offer compared to that?"

Okay, so it was sort of hard to feel upset by this.

"So you, what?" I asked. "Just sit here?"

"I watch you sleep," she said, then seemed to reconsider, "and listen."

"Lis- no!" I said, dropping the pizza again. I tried to leave the table.

"No!" I said as she caught me, and suddenly she was the only thing in the world, her cool body against me, her smooth embrace and her scent enfolding me, her whispering voice at me ear.

"Peace, Love," she said quietly. "Peace. You have no idea what a true gift it is to hear your dreams, to know you dream of me. Would that I could, I would dream of you."

I relented, putting my arms around her and holding her to me.

"Why must you be so understandable?" I mock complained. "Can't you just let me be indignant?"

"Would you be happier that way?" she asked.

I tried to glare at her and laughed.

"Oh hush!" I said, giving her a final squeeze before going back to the pizza.

I finished quickly and brought my dish to the sink for cleaning.

"So," I asked, "now that I am fed, what shall we do?"

"What would you like to do?" she asked.

I put on a joking expression of consideration and let my eyes travel up and down her, contemplating.

She didn't laugh. Her expression turned sultry and she began pacing towards me, her steps languorous and swaying. My stomach was suddenly assaulted by a fleet of radioactive butterflies.

"Uh..." I said as she clutched the hem of her own shirt, twisting it and pulling it tight against her, as though fighting some confining force, as though longing to break free.

She backed me against the counter, transferring her hand from the hem of her shirt to mine. She leaned in, her lips parted, her eyes slowly closing.

Just before her lips met mine, she whispered, "You're too easy."

She laughed, and I joined her, if quieter and a tad sheepish.

"Seriously," I said. "What should we do?"

"Talk," she said. "I want to know more about you."

"You know all about me," I said. "I'm just starting to learn about you."

She smiled, "What would you like to know?"

I thought about it.

"Why did you choose to stop killing humans?" I asked.

She raised an eyebrow at me.

"No," I said, a bit embarrassed, "I get why you did it, but, I guess, I mean, why do it? From your perspective, there really isn't much of a reason to stop killing humans, aside from the obvious one. Why would that become relevant to a being for whom it is a norm?"

She considered my question.

"Let's sit," she said.

I looked around, "Living room?"

"Or your bedroom," she said, "or outside. Wherever you feel comfortable."

I thought about it, "Living room is fine."

We took seats on the couch, close enough to touch and feel connected, but still with enough room to see one another.

"I suppose," she said, "that there is a parallel here, between humans and us. Many, many humans go about their lives, simply existing. They don't really change or make decisions or learn. They lead lives that are no less complex or meaningful to them, but they do everything by habit and routine with only structured deviations or diverge by necessity. However, there are some people who see their lives, who are willing to embrace change, to make a different decision because they choose something more for themselves than simply existing. They choose risk over conservation, change over comfort, and while it costs more in the short term, it benefits them much more in the long term. It takes work to live like that, but it is worth it."

I thought about it and smirked.

"Yeah, it would be a shame if you were to give up on being with me for all this warm delicious blood," I said. "All tasty and defenseless and right here..."

"You tease..." she says half serious, half sarcastic.

"Have you ever drank human blood?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "Only three members of my family haven't tasted human blood, ever, and that's my mother, my brother Rory, and Alice. Emily resists for the most part but has had two people who have been appealing to her, somewhat like you are to me. She didn't think twice, both times, before or after. Emanuel has had a moment of weakness or two, a long time ago. As for Jasper and I... There was a time when we were both rather prolific murderers."

I shuttered, "Really?"

She nodded, "I questioned Katherine more in my youth. In our early days, I was considered an adult, if not a woman, and thought myself wise. I decided that I would prefer an alternative lifestyle to Katherine's chastened rules, and walked my own path for a time, choosing to lead the life of a more traditional vampire. I used ever moral justification I could and spent my time on murderers, and rapists in particular. It was a rather poetic fate for them, truly, and, without going into detail, my hunts made it more so."

There was a cold, pleasurably calculating look in her eyes as she seemed locked in distant memory. I promptly snatched a pillow and throw it lightly at her. She laughed and caught it, flipping it back so it landed just where it sat before I touched it, as identically as it was really possible to be.

"Answer me something," she said.

"Yes?" I replied.

"You keep saying that you are lost," she said, "saying that you don't know what to do with your life. Why is that?"

I thought about it.

"I've never really gotten along with kids my age," I said. "I know how to be friends with them, but I've always sort of found them disingenuous, with a few exceptions. I don't seem to have any specific appeal to do anything over anything else. I appreciate books and movies, general story telling, but I don't love them. I'm meticulous and good at cleaning and cooking, but don't want to make it a career. I'm a good student, but at some point, I should choose something to study and I have no idea what that should be. It will probably be something that will help people or benefit society, but it will be something I choose for those reasons and not because I want to."

"Why?" she said. "Why can't wanting to help people be the reason you want to do something?"

"Because," I said, "it's too idealistic and without focus. You can't exactly sign up for Helping People classes at a college campus."

"They have more specific names," she laughed, "but such classes exist."

"I don't know," I said. "Given the state of my college fund, I will be attending Seattle Community College."

"No," she said, her voice suddenly firm. "I couldn't stand that."

"What?" I asked, her response surprising me.

"You are a great student," she said passionately. "You're insightful and decent and dedicated and moral and amazing. If there is anyone in the world who deserves a great education at a first-rate school, it's someone like you."

"If you say so," I said.

"I'm serious," she said insistently. "You're going to a good school if I have to pay for it myself."

"No, you're not," I said.

"You're not going to sway me on this," she said. "Believe someone who has been to college multiple times. And, it isn't as though we don't have the money."

"You're not spending money on me," I disagreed. "Not that much, not on me, not for anything."

She stared at me.

"You don't want me spending money on you?" she asked. "Why?"

"Because," I said. "Look, can we talk about something else?"

"Urgh!" she said loudly, standing. "At some point, not being able to read your thoughts will be less annoying! At least, I'm hoping."

"What?" I asked, wanting more clarification.

"What are you afraid of?" she asked. "The only reason not to answer a question and do so honestly is fear. What are you afraid of?"

I thought about it.

"I don't know," I said. "I guess... I guess that I don't like other people spending money on me."

"Other people meaning myself?" she asked.

"People in general," I said, "but you more so. I mean, I've never had much. My dad was a teacher, and likely will be again once he and Felicia get settled somewhere. Anyway, my parents never really had much in the way of surplus income."

"And therefore you must also live a life of frugality?" she asked.

"No, it isn't that," I said. "It's just... I can't do the same for you. I can't give you anything you don't already have. It's like... I don't know. It's like, you're giving me so much already, more than I could ever ask for, maybe more than I think that I deserve. If you gave me more on top of that..."

For a moment, she looked as though she was going to cry.

"Oh no!" I said. "No no no! I shouldn't have said that! What did I say? I'm sorry!"

She shook her head.

"No," she said gently. "No, don't fret. I am just sad. We both believe the other is the better of us. I have no right to demand that you believe better of yourself when I am just as unwilling to do so. At some point, I'm going to have to start being a better person and not be complacent with just wishing that I was."

I wanted to say that she was better, but then I thought about what she was saying.

"No," I said. "It isn't that we need to be better; we both need to start seeing ourselves for the good that is in us. Only by seeing the good can we truly recognize the bad and do something about it."

"Tell me," she said.

I blinked, "Huh?"

She smiled, "Tell me something good about myself. If I can't see it and you can, then you would be the person to ask."

I thought about it.

"You're willing to do whatever it takes to be happy," I said.

"No, I'm not," she said.

I looked at her, just looked, saying nothing.

"You said doing the right thing was doing what made you happy and being responsible," she said. "If I did the responsible thing, I would leave and never come back."

"How would that make you happy?" I asked.

"It wouldn't," she said, "but neither would you doing chores rather than spending time with me."

"It would, though," I said. "Look, being responsible isn't about doing things that you don't want to do in order to live; being responsible is about doing the things that need doing, that are necessary in order for you to live. And doing that will make you happy if you do it for the right reasons."

"How so?" she asked.

"You can do something good for the wrong reasons," I said, "just as easily as doing something wrong for the right reasons. You can give a gift to someone for the wrong reason and you can shoot someone for the right ones."

She looked sharply at me, her expression remaining mild, "You think my trying to give you money for college is for the wrong reasons?"

"Yes," I said.

"Why?" she said back.

"Because you wouldn't take no for an answer!"

I didn't mean to raise my voice, but I did. It was quiet a long moment, then I said, "Look, if you want to give me something, give it to me, but I reserve the right to refuse it or not like it or whatever. Otherwise, you're not giving me a gift; you're trying to buy me, and I won't be bought, not by anyone. Not even you."

She stared at me for what felt like about fifty thousand years that somehow fit into a few moments.

"You're right," she said.

I just stared at her.

"I wasn't being fair to you," she went on. "You are able to make your own decisions. I need to let you. That was my mistake."

I kept staring. For some reason I don't fully understand, I felt very strange, a sort of edgy uncomfortableness that is somehow almost desirable, like her response is cathartic in a way I couldn't even begin to explain. It made me want to touch her, be in contact with her. I slid my hand into her hard fingers, letting them steal my warmth as I intertwine mine with hers. She got this almost lazy, sappy smile and shifted a little closer to me.

"How about me?" I asked. "What's a truth about myself that I'm not seeing?"

She laughed, "You're desirable."

"What?" I replied. "No, really."

"I'm not joking," she said. "You are attractive to women."

"No," I argued, "women just want me around for selfish reasons."

"How am I selfish?" she asked.

I frowned, "Okay, most women."

She laughed again, "You're not getting out of it that easily. Girls want you. Trust me on this; I can read minds, you know."

I rolled my eyes, "There's no way I can believe you."

"Why?" she asked.

"'Why'?" I quoted back. "Because it's not possible, that's why."

"It is impossible?" she asked skeptically. "The universe would be functioning incorrectly if the fairer sex was drawn to you?"

I didn't say anything. I just felt mad.

"You don't want to be attractive," she said.

I snort but still said nothing.

"Because," she continued, "if you are attractive, then there has to be some other reason why no one has asked you out or why you haven't had a relationship before now."

"No," I said a bit weakly.

She shook her head, "I think that's part of it, but you're right; it's not all of it. Being unattractive is an excuse, a reason for you to never have to ask anyone out either. If you believe that no one wants you, you never have to risk asking anyone out and actually be rejected. This is you doing the wrong thing for the right reason. You are protecting yourself, but in such a way that you guarantee never being happy."

I looked down, "I asked you out, didn't I?"

She squeezed my hand, "If I hadn't prompted you, would you have still asked me?"

I shook my head, "I don't know. I guess I'm scared when it comes to interacting with girls. I never know what to say."

"To what?" she asked.

"Huh?" I asked.

"You never know what to say in order to what?" she clarified.

"I don't know," I said. "I guess in order to make them like me, in order to stop them from rejecting me."

"To control them?" she asked.

"No," I immediately said, but then I thought about it. Was that what I was doing? When you made someone do something or not do something else, that was control. I was trying to control them, to have them do or say what I wanted. No, I wasn't even doing that; I was trying to control them inside my own head before I even met them. What kind of an asshole was I?

"Maybe," I admitted, then found myself remembering what I had said to her this afternoon, about only sharing what she felt comfortable sharing, and I said, "Yes. I am trying to control them. To control you too, probably."

She didn't respond. She just looked at me, still as anything, and after a moment, asked, "Why would you want to control me?"

"For the same reason I wanted to control the girls before," I said. "Because I don't want to be rejected. I don't want to feel like I am not worth it. I don't want to risk being hurt. Because I am afraid."

She shook her head, "People who are afraid don't speak the truth. They hide it so that it can't be used against them. What you just did was the opposite of fear. You are brave."

I kissed her, hard and suddenly. It wasn't until she stiffened that I remembered and realized that might not be the best idea. Even then, it was hard to stop. I had some idea, a very limited idea, how hard it was for her to stop from trying to get what she really wanted.

After a moment, she relaxed and started to kiss me again, carefully. And then, something shifted. She started moving towards me, moving a little faster. The next thing I knew, she was pushing me back on the couch, sitting across my legs as she did in the meadow, but this time, it was different. I felt her weight on me, a pressure that spoke of closeness, of connection, of two bodies pressing. She began touching me, her hands in my hair, on my skin, her hands wandering further, over clothing and lower, my chest, my back, my stomach. It was too much, but I didn't want to stop. I didn't want to pull away. But something broke through, and I realized that she was starting to lose it. While that didn't really matter to me, I knew it mattered to her.

"Stop," I whispered, just pulling back enough to break the kiss and say the words. For a moment, even with our lips parted, her hands didn't slow. Finally, she began to relent.

"I..." she said, and I put fingers to her lips.

"No," I said. "I understand."

She looked at me a moment, "You stopped for me. You understood, and you stopped for me."

I laughed, "You think I would stop for any other reason?"

Her smile was genuine if tinged with repentance.

"There is a hunger to pressing," I said, "almost a dissatisfaction. When you are happy, content with what we have, it is easy, slow, light. You are kissing me for me, for us. When you aren't, it is hungry, clutching, always desiring, wanting more. When you are kissing me for you, I can tell. It is almost like I don't need to be here."

She looked disgusted with herself.

"You don't need to do that," I said. "You screwed up, and that's okay. I do recall telling you that you could. And look, it didn't even kill me."

She laughed.

"I love you," she said.

I was about to say it back when I happened to notice that her shirt was unbuttoned. It really caught my attention.

"I..." I tried to say, but my mind was just really focused on the shirt.

"I didn't do that," I asked, "did I?"

"Um, no," she said. "That was... that was me."

For a moment, I wanted to touch her again, to help her strip the shirt away completely, to look upon her and feel her and have her. But then I realized that it would only be what I wanted, my hunger, and that was no less selfish than what she had just done.

Instead, I placed my hand upon her stomach, the tips of my finger just curling about the edge of her, around her side. I put my hand there, and left it, feeling it. Her skin was smooth and lovely, but it wasn't about me, what I felt. I looked at her, into her eyes, seeing her, searching her expression, focusing myself on her. She looked back a moment, but then, she looked back, really looked back, and was momentarily afraid. Then, she let go. She felt my hand, her eyes drifting closed, and I moved it. There was nothing inherently sexual about it, at least not in a way that I had thought or learned sexuality to be. I didn't know what I was inspiring in her, and I wasn't trying to have her feel anything. She was accepting my touch and wanted me to continue. It was about her more than me, about her as completely as I knew how to be. She kissed me again, and it was heated, passionate, but this time, I was there to, I was with her. It was about us.

I wasn't sure how much time passed, but then, she sat up, listening, and I was suddenly terrified.

"Mom?" I asked, and she nodded.

I was about to freak out. After all, I had a hard enough time admitting to my mom that I was dating Edwina; how would it be for her to come home and find us on the couch, with her shirt half way to being off?

She smiled, kissed my forehead, and vanished. She was just gone, with no trace of her left, except the faintest lingering of her scent on me. I heard a quiet laugh from somewhere upstairs, realized that she was still here, then dove for the kitchen.

"Sorry mom," I said as she walked in the door. "I totally lost track of time. Dinner isn't even started."

She looked confused as she walked into the room, "I thought you wouldn't be home yet."

I nod, "Yeah, I just got back."

She grinned, "But no dance?"

I could have sworn I heard something creak upstairs.

"Mom," I said, trying to not sound like I was about to completely lose it, "if you never, ever mention a single school dance to anyone, ever again, it will be too soon."

"You don't need to get snippy," she said, not entirely in a mom way.

"And you don't need to mention the dance at every single possible opportunity either," I said, rather fairly, I thought.

She nodded, "I can see what you're saying. But it isn't exactly like you would ever talk to me about these things if I didn't pester you."

"I don't know, mom," I said. "You know I don't talk about this stuff much. But I can't ever be comfortable talking about it if you keep pestering me to talk to you about it at the pace you would prefer. I need to do so in my own time."

She seemed to digest that, "But you are going to tell me?"

"Sure," I said easily. "But not because you pester me. I will tell you because I want to, when I want to, and not before."

She sighed, "Yeah, I'm really not great at this whole mom thing, am I?"

"Well," I said, "you did say you weren't. I can't expect you to get it right all at once. But don't expect me to do it right or your way either, and I think we'll figure it out."

She looked at me, an odd expression on her face, "What's up with you?"

I froze, "What?"

My voice might have squeaked. A little.

"You seem... different," she said. "When did you get all mature and reasonable?"

I couldn't help but laugh, and not for the reason she imagined.

"Are you suggesting that I am not normally?" I asked teasingly.

She snorted, putting away fish, "Not usually. No, I'm serious. What gives?"

I smiled, "I guess I just had a really good day."

"Yeah," she said, "how was your trip?"

"I didn't go," the words falling out of my mouth before I could consider the consequences.

She looked at me, "You didn't?"

"No," I said, trying to realign my thinking.

"What did you do?" she asked.

"I spent the day with my girlfriend," I said honestly, a bit too casually.

It was Mom's turn to freeze.

"Your..." she started but couldn't seem to finish.

"Girlfriend," I said, starting to sound a little nervous.

Mom seemed to come to grips with that, swallowed, then said, in a much more parental tone, "So, does she have a name?"

"Edwina Cullen," I said.

Now Mom looked shocked, "The doctor's daughter?"

"One of them, yes," I said.

"Which one?" she asked, and there was something about her tone, something reserved almost.

"The younger one," I said, ironically, but she was a junior, like Alice, and since Emily was a senior, there was a fifty-fifty chance that she was the youngest according to their cover story. "With the reddish hair."

She muttered something I didn't catch.

"What?" I asked.

"Isn't she a little old for you?" she asked.

I managed not to laugh, only just.

"Those girls are a bit mature for you," she went on. "I would have thought you would have dated someone... younger."

"She is a junior," I pointed out, as though that mattered, "like me."

Mom quickly seemed to change tactics, "So, when do I get to meet her?"

Saying "Now, she's in my room, let me go get her" was not a great plan, so I said, "Tomorrow."

She looked a little nonplussed, "Didn't you spend today together? And you're going to be spending time with her again already? Doesn't that seem a little much?"

"No," I said simply. "I am probably going to be spending a lot of time with her, though, so be prepared for her spending time around here."

Mom didn't look entirely happy with that, but I couldn't see why.

And then, I felt it. This was why, why I had never told her, why I was so against it; I thought that it was because she wouldn't be happy for me, but it wasn't. She wasn't interested in what I felt. She was just interested in having an opinion about it. It didn't matter that I was happy. It didn't matter that I felt anything. Her response was all about her, and it just went to show me that I wasn't important.

"I already ate," I said, looking for an excuse to walk out of the room.

She caught on to the change immediately, "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said. "Nothing's wrong. It's just been a long day. I could use some time to myself. More fishing tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she said, "but just in the morning; I could use some time to myself too. Having friends can be exhausting sometimes."

I smiled, but I thought she could tell that it was only superficial.

"Alright," I said. "I'll invite Edwina over in the afternoon. Night mom."

It felt early to me for some reason, but it didn't matter. I really didn't want to be in the same room as my mom for the rest of the night. I went up to my room, feeling as little as I could until I closed to door.

Edwina was laid across my bed. All things considered, I was the most inviting sight I had ever seen, on many levels and for many reasons. She came to life, turning to look at me, her smile a little sad as I came to sit beside her.

"Hello," she said politely.

"Hi," I said, looking at my hands, one inside the other.

"Sorry you had to hear all that," I said. "My mom isn't being very fair to you."

"Or you," she said. "But I understand."

"I don't," I said, a bit disgruntled.

"She loves you," she said. "She doesn't want to see you get hurt."

Now that she had said that, I felt a little better. I guessed it was true, even if it did suck a little.

"What can I do to help?" she asked. For some reason, that was the point I realized that her shirt was still half open. I blushed, and she laughed, and by the time I had recovered, her shirt was neatly buttoned, as before. A part of me felt a bit dissatisfied by that.

"How about this?" she asked. "Don't... move..."

I sat still. I felt the bed shift as she moved behind me. I couldn't help it and sat straighter.

"Don't... move," she said seriously, and I start to feel sort of trembly all over, maybe a little afraid, but not really of being hurt.

I felt her push at my hair, playing with the tiny waves I would get at the nape of my neck, her breath sending goose flesh up my skin. Her almost frigid lips touched the curve of my neck, and it was all I could do not to bolt upright as the sensation scoured through me.

"I don't think I can stay still," I whispered as suddenly the utterly glass smooth swish of her tongue lanced momentarily across my skin.

"Why?" she asked quietly back.

"Because," I replied as her hands ghosted around my ribs, "you're going to drive me crazy."

"Oh," she said, sounding a bit skeptical.

She kissed up the side of my neck, her hard lips tugging at my earlobe. I just about lost it.

"Can I have a minute?" I asked, trying to calculate just how quickly I can slowly jump her without it being dangerous or painful.

She relented almost immediately, tossing herself to lie back on the bed. I hopped up, looking back at her with longing. I didn't want to leave, but I knew that I needed to get ready for bed at some point, and I wasn't confident enough to do that with her here.

"I'll be right back," I said. "You're not allowed to leave."

She struck a pose, as though lounging, rather artistically, just a touch provocative, beautiful, and didn't move. If I hadn't seen her do it before, I would have found it very disconcerting. Grabbing up a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, I went to the bathroom.

I showered, feeling a bit disgruntled as her smell, which had been clinging to me all day, was washed away. I toweled off and combed my damp hair, brushing my teeth and making sure I didn't have unsightly tears in my clothes, which were rather old and ratty. Having a girl see what I normally slept in had never really been a concern for me before now. A bit nervously, I came back, dropping my dirty clothes in the hamper. Edwina looked as though she hadn't moved at all. Without thinking about it too hard, I slid across the bed beside her. She flowed into motion, meeting my movements and settling on one side, her back to me as my arms enfolded her.

"Hi," I said, almost hiding my face in her hair, feeling oddly vulnerable with this lovely girl in my room, me only wearing the clothes that I sleep in.

"Hello," she said back, her fingers interlocking with mine. "I missed you."

I laughed, "Next time you can come with me."

"Oh," she said seriously, a bit alluringly. I suddenly felt roughly a billion time more vulnerable.

"Okay, maybe not," I said.

She chuckled, "Why? What was that reaction about?"

"I guess," I said, feeling so shy, which felt very strange for me. "I guess I am not the most comfortable person in the world when it comes to my body."

"Why?" she asked.

I got defensive, "Hey, guys can be insecure about their bodies too. Girls don't have a monopoly on that!"

"No," she said, soothing me with her hand running up my arms, holding my arms tighter to her. "I mean, really why? Is there a particular reason?"

"Oh," I said. "Not a particular one. I am just, sort of skinny and I'm not really boy-pretty or anything."

"'Boy-pretty'?" she quoted, sounding amused. I was sure I was blushing.

"Appearance is so utterly meaningless to me," she said. "Tell me this, if I were human, would you have had any more trouble talking to me than you did?"

"If I recall," I said back, "I didn't have any trouble talking to you until you didn't want me to."

"Exactly," she said. "You're ability to talk to me, interact with me, my worth has nothing to do with what you see when you look at me."

"I would value you the same if you were human or vampire," I said, "and that still doesn't change the fact that you are gorgeous. I am not."

She rolled over, facing me. One of her legs wrapped itself around mine, pulling me closer as she clutched my face and kissed me, fiercely. I was kissing her back, all conversation flitting off along with my heart rate. As the kiss broke, far sooner than I would have preferred, she looked into my eyes.

"You are beautiful," she said. "Just because you don't have the symmetry and aesthetics of a majority of the world consider to be advantageous when it comes to the structures of your face and body does not mean that you are not a wonder, marvelous to behold. Your features are a part of you, part of a person who is the best person I have ever known. You are priceless to me."

I pressed my forehead to the stony cold of hers, still feeling really comfortable in a way I wouldn't have expected.

"Sometimes I am afraid that I will never live up to the person you see me as," I admitted.

She stroked my cheek, "You can worry about that if you want to. I will still just love you anyway."

I kissed her again, this time it was slow, chaste, and light.

"Where did you come from?" I asked. I wasn't sure exactly where the question came from.

"Chicago," she giggled.

"No," I said, the question reforming in my head. "I mean, where did vampires come from?"

She still giggled, "Where did you come from?"

"Forks," I said, chuckling too.

"You see my point?" she asked,

"Yeah," I said.

"We are all part of the same world," she said. "Our prey is just a little more sophisticated. We have to take greater measures to stay out of the public eye. Our origins are no better understood or any more wondrous than yours."

I frowned at that, "You don't think there is something magical about you?"

There was no way I could think of her as anything else.

She smiled, biting her lip in with an eagerness that was in no way suggestive.

"Maybe," she said, "but could you not say the same of yourself? Even if you were to denounce the notion of God, which I find hard to do at times myself, you are still composed of the byproduct of stars, part of a billions of years old experiment in chemistry, resulting in one of the most complex organisms in the known universe. Please, tell me how you are more mystical than I."

I couldn't. Somehow, she had successfully conveyed to me a large degree of wonder in myself, in human kind, in the world that I had never felt before. I was at a loss. I just kept kissing her. There was nothing else I wanted to do more.

I didn't remember deciding to take the T-shirt off. Just knew that for a moment, our kiss broke, and I took the opportunity to pull my shirt off. We went immediately back to kissing, and while there was no way I was going to take off more, despite her comments about my body, I was content with us not progressing closer to sex. She could have taken her shirt off too, I wouldn't have complained, but all things considered, what I had was already way more than I ever thought I would have, let alone more than I ever deserved.

"Tell me what your thinking," she whispered as she started to kiss the side of my neck again.

"I'm thinking that if you want a coherent answer out of me," I replied, "doing that won't help."

She ran a tingling cool finger down me, "Can I touch you?"

"Um sure," I said, sounding quavery and breathless.

In a small eternity that somehow fit into my tiny room, in that small portion of a single night, she ran her hands about me, lingering, touching only my upper body, my exposed skin. Somewhere in the middle, I figured out that as much as she was enjoying what she was doing, and having me enjoy it, which I very immensely was, she was also doing it to know me, to map me with her hands, memorizing every little bit of me that she could, checking and rechecking and re-rechecking.

At last, I had no choice. I rolled onto her, and she let me, relented to me, as I held her wrists high on the bed, above our heads, against my pillow, me on top of her, my breath positively ragged.

"Okay," I sort of breathed out shallowly. "That is my limit."

"I'm sorry," she whispered back, sounding repentant.

"Sorry?" I asked. "Why? You were driving me completely crazy. I figured this was a better reaction than going for your shirt."

She laughed, "I am still sorry. My poor, flustered boyfriend."

I froze, feeling a wave of something crash over me. At last, I surfaced.

"Boyfriend?" I asked, sounding just as breathless, but in a very different way.

"Yes," she said. "Aren't you? I am your girlfriend, aren't I?"

Her voice was coy, teasing, and then I realized that I had said that, downstairs with Mom. I hadn't really thought about it at the time. We hadn't talked about it or anything. It just seemed like the thing to say. She seemed like so much more to me than that, anyway.

"Did you mind?" I asked, knowing that she knew exactly what I meant.

She giggled, "Not at all. It was very sweet."

I rolled back to one side, and she nestled into me.

"So," she said, "I'm your girlfriend?"

"If you want," I said. "I want you to be."

I wanted her forever, but that wasn't really something I knew how to put into words.

She clasped her hands over her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. I suddenly remembered that my Mom was downstairs and probably wouldn't be too pleased if she came upstairs and found me like this.

"Of course I want to be," she said. "That is a given. I love you."

I held her to me, and after such a long and emotionally charged day, I started to feel very sleepy, despite my little nap this afternoon.

"Tell me something," she said, "anything at all."

"I'm tired," I said.

She ran a hand lightly over my face, and it was very relaxing.

"Are you ready to sleep now?" she asked, sounding very content.

"I don't know," I said. "Are you really going to stay?"

"Always," she said, her tone fraught with meaning.

"I'm going to hold you to that," I said sleepily.

"Here," she said, pulling my blanket over me.

"What about you?" I said as she tucked the blanket around me, without including herself.

"I don't need to protection from the cold," she said. "You do. If you are cold, I can lie further away, or sit in the chair if you are more comfortable."

I obstinately grabbed her, despite the blanket between us, and clutched her to me. She stifled her laughter in the blanket, kissing my shoulder through it before returning her face to mine and kissing me again.

"Aren't you uncomfortable?" I asked.

"No," she said. "Why?"

"My..." I said, hoping not to reminder her or offend her or anything, "scent."

"Oh," she said, smiling. "I am getting used to it. I have been closer to you, been around you more, in the last thirty-two hours than I ever have. I am sure if I were to stay away for any period of time, it would be harder-"

"Then never ever leave," I pointed out. "Ever."

She laughed again, "I thought you had a problem with me joining you for showers."

I blinked, "Um, huh. When you put it like that, I guess I really don't mind so much."

"Why?" she asked curiously.

"Because," I said, a little sheepishly, "I hadn't really thought about you... joining me. I thought you would just sort of watch, I guess. I mean, just be in the room or whatever."

She giggled, "You really didn't think about that?"

"No," I said. "Why would you join me? Do you even shower?"

She smiled, making a very pleasant murmuring sound.

"Yes," she said, "we do get dirty on occasion, though we do not have to worry about dead skin cells and sweat residue the way you do. And, after all, there are other benefits of showering. It feels very enjoyable."

"Yeah," I agreed, a bit dreamily.

"You should sleep," she murmured in my ear.

"No," I protested. "I don't want to go away."

She cradled me to her gently, "You're not going anywhere, and neither am I."

"But I'll miss you," I said, my words starting to garble as my age regressed as I began to near sleep.

"Sleep, Love," she whispered around an endearing giggle. "I will be here when you wake up."

"You promise?" I asked.

"I promise," she said.

She began to hum, low and melodically, her hand the lightest caress, her cool and lovely scented breath blowing across my face.

"I love you," I was just able to convey if not in fully formed words. I knew that she understood. Then I was out in moments.


	14. Chapter 14: Meet the Parents

When I woke that Sunday morning, I felt as though I had been awake a few minutes and my brain was finally catching up. I knew something was different, but I couldn't put my finger on what. But then, I stretched, reaching out, my hand brushing something hard, though covered in cloth. Before I consciously recognize what was going on, I knew Edwina was there and I was pouncing on her.

"You stayed," I cried, if not loudly. She settled my weight atop her body, and I'm not entirely sure how we managed not to fall off the bed.

"Hi there," she greeted me pleasantly. I then woke up enough to recognize what I had done and tried to pull back from her.

"I liked it better with you on top of me," she said, not letting me retreat completely.

I chuckled quietly, "Sorry. I wasn't complete awake. That was rude."

"Not especially," she said. "You're right to be cautious, but it was only possibly dangerous, not rude. Under normal circumstances and within reason, you are welcome to jump me anytime you like. Unless I tell you otherwise."

"You're just saying that because I'm half naked," I replied.

There was distance between us, unlike last night, and now, it was her eyes and not her fingertips that trace over me. I felt shy and started trying to track down my shirt before I could blush. But as I sat up, so did she, somehow coming significantly closer to me, her lips and face and eyes so very close to mine. She looked deep into me.

"Good morning," she said. I quit caring about my shirt. And just about everything else.

"Morning," I said. I sounded like a slack-jawed yokel by comparison.

I carefully raised my hand, met by hers, caressing the back of mine to let me know she was okay, as I touched her face and drew her lips to mine and I leaned in to meet her. It was just as electric as I remembered. I decided in that moment, if I had a choice, I would spend a majority of the rest of my existence kissing Edwina.

"Where's Carrie?" I asked as we finally broke.

"She left this morning," she said. "Fishing, by her gear. She left a note; she will be back to meet me this afternoon."

"Good," I said, smiling, "good."

"Breakfast?" she asked.

"If you insist," I said, cocking my head to one side, exposing my neck in offering.

"Mmm," she murmured, and her cold lips were against my neck again. It was just as shocking as I remembered.

"I meant breakfast for the human," she said in mild sarcasm.

"Oh," I said. "Just a moment. I need another minute."

I went to grab something to wear but found a set of clothing that I had never seen before folded on my desk chair, that had been moved so that it was directly in the path between me and the door, pointed towards me in a way that I could only describe as deliberate.

I turned, realizing that Edwina's clothing was different. She was wearing a soft, deep purple strapless dress and a thin white half coat that ended just below her bust. Her hair was still loose and tousled.

"You left?" I asked, sounding distressed.

Empathy filled her expression, "No, Love. No. I just have a sister."

It clicked.

"Alice," I said.

"Alice," she chuckled.

I took the clothing without thinking, "I'll be right back."

I used the bathroom, washed my face and brushed my teeth, finally looking at the clothing offered to me. They were simple, and while they weren't designer, they didn't look secondhand. It was a light pair of blue jeans that were comfortable and fit really well if a little tighter than I usually wore. The shirt was a navy blue button up that could be worn casually but was still nice enough to pull off dressy. There was also a simple off-black T-shirt that was a size smaller than I usually wore too. It fit but was a bit tighter. I put the button up on over it, leaving it unbuttoned and untucked. I walked back into my room, questing for socks, but it wasn't until I was halfway through putting them on that I realized that Edwina was staring at me. I sat up straighter.

"What?" I asked, disconcerted.

"You look good," she said, her tone unsurprised but with a resonance that made me hum and feel shy at the same time.

"I thought you didn't care about appearance," I said, finishing putting on my socks with slightly trembling fingers.

"I like looking at you," she said. "A lack of icing does not make a cake less delicious."

I suppressed my smile, "So I'm dessert now?"

"Absolutely edible," she whispered, swaying her way to me as we both stood. "Delectable."

As I leaned in for my usual kiss, I bent more than usual, my lips finding the smooth skin of her chest.

"Oh," she said in surprise, "that's- Mmm. Oh! Um... Breakfast. Breakfast!"

She laughed as I relented, touching her face and kissing her one last time.

We went downstairs, and as we entered the kitchen, she said, "What would you like?"

I frowned, "You don't have to make me breakfast."

She looked significantly at me, her expression saying clearly that I was being an idiot and she still loved me.

"Okay, fine," I said, trying to grumble unsuccessfully. As soon as I pulled out the batter mix for pancakes, she caught on. However, as I went about, pulling ingredients from the frig and shelves, I didn't stop, and soon we were both making pancakes together.

"You really should use some different ingredients," she said. "A lot of the food you have here is highly processed and full of preservatives."

I smiled, "You're one to talk. How much organic food to you keep at your place?"

"All of it," she said. "For the most part. We do have to keep up appearances."

I frowned, "That seems... wasteful."

"Not as much as you'd think," she said. "Emanuel covertly arranges the food to go out to various shelters. It's the best we can do, all things considered. Such trifles are a necessity, I'm afraid."

She was heating the skillet while I finished the batter up.

"Do you miss it?" I asked. "Food, I mean."

"No," she said. "I have only the vaguest recollection of food, dull senses through muddled human memories. I didn't enjoy it as much as some, but for us, my human parents and I, food was not indulged in as a luxury."

"Can you eat?" I asked.

She grinned over at me. The quirking of her lips made me think about kissing her again.

"Yes," she said, "but it is a bit uncomfortable. Our body is not designed to digest and expel food as humans do. We have to bring it back up the way it came in, and that is no more pleasant for us than you, to say nothing of the fact that food is as appetizing to us as chewing on soggy cardboard is to you. We only do it as a necessity."

I nodded and brought the batter over for pouring. She manned the stove and refused to give way, extending a hand to receive the bowl.

"I can get near a stove without burning myself," I complained as I handed it over.

She glanced at me, "Are you going to tell me you've never burned yourself?"

I frowned and took a place sitting on the counter.

She smiled, "You can complain all you want. But why take unnecessary risks while I'm around? If you were less clumsy, I would be-"

"Exactly the same way," I said. "I am betting that there's a part of you that has been trying to make sure I never drive again without you in the car."

From the slightly upturned corners of her mouth, I knew I was right.

"So," she said. "We have many hours to spend until we are meeting your mother. What shall we do?"

I thought about it. We had already spent the day her in my house.

"Can we go to your house?" I asked.

She smiled, "Yes, we can."

She considered as she flipped pancakes and pulled her phone seemingly from nowhere, but upon glancing at it, it disappeared once again into a nearly invisible hip pocket.

"What would you like on your pancakes?" she asked.

"What I put on them," I said, amused, walking to the frig and pulling out maple syrup and butter.

She laughed, "At some point, we will find our middle ground, where I will do things for you and you will let me."

I nodded, "I'm sure. So, tell me something about your family. I mean, we are going to be seeing them today, aren't we?"

"But of course," she said, beaming. "They all want to meet you, well, some more than others, surely. They will be there today. It is supposed to storm this evening."

I am not sure what that has to do with anything, but before I can ask, she continues.

"Katherine's story is a bit long and involved," she said. "If you would like to know it, you should ask her. She has been around since the sixteen forties, and is our leader in virtually every sense of the world. I joined her as a vampire in nineteen eighteen, as I mentioned before. In nineteen twenty-one, Katherine found Emanuel, who was very nearly dead after a fall from a cliff. They had known each other previously, when he fell out of a tree and broke his leg horribly, so much so that he was deemed unfit for service in the Great War. When she found that he was still alive, she changed him, and thought he has had his slips when it comes to taking human lives, he accepted his new life and enjoyed it."

"He likes being a vampire?" I asked.

She laughed, "It isn't exactly painful. It has its benefits after all, but not everyone wants them."

"How so?" I asked. She began piling three pancakes on a plate.

"Six?" she asked.

"Sure," I said, starting on the first three as she continued making more.

"Take my brother for example," she said. "He too was on the brink of death, as was I, as was my father. But, in some way, I think that he would have preferred death to this life."

"Why?" I asked, buttering and pouring syrup.

She smiled at me, but it was almost a sad smile, "You humans really do take your mortality for granted, in many different ways. There is a wonder to aging that is hard to really understand until you aren't doing it anymore. It feels right to grow, to find someone to love, to be a part of their life and they a part of yours. Starting a family, have children and grandchildren, growing old together, these are all things that are as real and natural and right as breathing, as life. Honest, happy people want those things. Vampires can never have them."

I chewed as I considered that.

"These are really good, by the way," I said, and she grinned.

"But your parents have each other," I countered. "They have children, you and your siblings."

"It isn't the same," she said. "It is good and amazing in many, many ways, but it still isn't the same. There are many people out in the world who would give much to have the opportunity to be a parent, to grow old with the person they love. My brother is one of them. He joined our family in nineteen thirty-three, with the only alternative being death. He didn't have a choice, and if it wasn't for finding Emily two years later, I think he would have been the most miserable vampire I have ever known. This isn't a life that one simply walks away from."

"What do you mean?" I asked as she finished the last pancakes and slid them onto my nearly empty plate.

She proceeded to bustle me to the table as she finally set aside the skillet and had me sit and eat. I wasn't until then that I realized that I was standing and eat, unconsciously not wanting to even be that far away from her.

"As I said," she said as she bustled, "you humans take your mortality for granted. Should you choose death, for whatever reason, that end would be rather easy, when compared to us. I do not believe that I have ever heard of a single vampire taking its own life without help."

I swallowed, and not just because I had a mouth full of tasty, tasty pancake.

"How do vampires die?" I asked, feeling suddenly afraid. It had never really occurred to me that there might be a time in my life when she didn't exist. I didn't like it.

"Fire and dismemberment," she said with an amused smile. "It is kind of hard to do that to yourself."

I shook my head, "Can we talk about something else, please?"

She looked suddenly concerned, "Why?"

I pushed my plate away, no longer hungry, "I just... I don't want to think about that."

"About?" she asked, her expression softening.

"You," I said, unable to finish.

She moved to me, folding herself into my lap and settling her arms around me in a moment.

"Oh, Love," she said. "Don't worry. Nothing is going to happen to me. I'm not going anywhere."

I held her to me, "Okay. Okay. I just... I don't know what I would do without you. My life wouldn't... make any sense without you in it."

She kissed my lips lightly, looking deep into my eyes, "I know exactly what you mean."

I finished eating and we cleaned the kitchen, and by we, I mean that Edwina blurred with speed and it was done.

"That is a really useful trick," I said, a bit jealously. "I bet it's pretty handy at times."

"At times," she agreed.

We walked out and to my surprise, her silver car was in my driveway. I looked at her with a question look, and she just looked at me, smiling.

"Alice," I said, and preceded to get her door for her.

The drive was not long. We drove into a remote part of town, with denser trees and little establishment. She turned off on a road with little in the way of landmarks, which might easily be missed if you weren't looking for it. We drove nearly two miles before the woods opened up and there was the house.

I don't know what I was expecting. I hadn't thought about it too much, only assuming that it was large enough to fit a family of seven and was likely expensive. But I wasn't expecting it to be so modern. Much of the three-story rectangular house was glass, with a deep, wraparound porch and a passing nearby river. It was open, wooden and white stone. I was at a loss.

"It's really nice," I said, a bit in awe.

She beamed, "Emanuel restored it. It's almost as old as I am."

We exited the car and walked in the front door. It was very open inside too, with very few walls, especially on the first floor. There was a long staircase and very nice, if minimal, furnishings. Everywhere I looked, everything was tasteful and completely what one would expect in a rich home. Nothing about it at all even hinted at vampires.

"Not what you were expecting?" asked Edwina.

"No," I said. "I mean, yes but no. I wasn't expecting coffins on the floors or anything, but I was expecting, maybe... more privacy."

She took my hand, "This is our home. We keep up our charade, for our protection, but here, we do not hide."

She kissed me, my eyes fluttering shut. When they opened, Alice was standing there.

"Hey," she said, bouncing before throwing her arms around me. "I'm so glad you're here!"

Her enthusiasm was infectious, and having her stony little arms around me was not at all uncomfortable. I hugged her back, quietly chuckling, having an urge to ruffle her hair for some reason. I noticed Jasper standing well back nodding from the foot of the stairs. I was about to ask why when the rest of the family arrived, quick as thinking.

Rory and Emily came up, an almost haughty expression on Rory and an amused one on Emily.

"Hi," I said, feeling a bit intimidated. Alice finally let me go, falling to my left with Edwina still on my right. Before I could consider shaking hands or other greetings, Emily stepped up and picked me up, looking me over as though I were an item in a store that she was thinking about purchasing. When compared to my manhandling by Edwina the day before, this was positively careful and not at all unpleasant.

"Okay," she said, smiling. "He can stay."

She put me down and Alice's laughter rang out, jubilant and free. Jasper moved closer but always seemed to keep a member of his family between me and him. It was then that I remembered what Edwina said about the two of them hunting humans.

That was when I noticed Katherine and Emanuel, arms around each other, watching their children interact with me, not encroaching, sort of basking in us.

Emanuel was a little shorter than me, with dark blonde hair and kind eyes. He looked like a young teacher, somehow a bit studious and patient, he walked forward and embraced Edwina with what I could only describe as love. He held her to him, whispering to her as he held her off her feet, her hugging him back. As he put her down, he turned and hugged me as well, though far briefer and with a warm and companionable mien.

"Hello, Ben," he said. "It is very nice to meet you."

I shook his hand, feeling welcome and pleased. Katherine came forth and gave me a brief hug as well, "It is lovely to see you again, Ben. Welcome to our home. Feel free to return whenever you like."

They all smiled and nodded, though Rory was obviously less cordial than the rest.

"Can we get you anything?" asked Emanuel. "We keep food and drink in the house. You are welcome to whatever you like."

"Thank you," I said. "I just had breakfast, but I will certainly ask if need anything."

"Would you like to tour the house?" asked Emanuel.

I nodded, "Sure."

Edwina took the lead. As we walked the house, Jasper, Emily, and Rory made their way off, unobtrusively and without feeling dismissive. I took it all in with interest, asking questions as they came up, completely unaware of the passage of time. I was somewhat amused at C.E.E. Inc, the family's personal, all-purpose business venture. Alice's room, which she jokingly stated that she let Jasper into every once in a while, was actually smaller than her closet, despite its monstrous size, which struck me as hilarious and fitting somehow. Emanuel's study was well organized, but full, looking very much like what I would think a professional architect's office would be. Katherine's library was very rich, lots of Victorian furniture and medical artifacts that looked better preserved than they would be had they been housed in a high-end museum.

"That's interesting," I said, noting the large, aged cross that was hung outside Katherine's library.

Katherine smiled, "It belonged to my father. He was a harshly religious, Anglican pastor in the mid-seventeenth century. My mother passed during my birth, and I was forced to keep her role in our household in her stead."

I blinked at her words, "You mean..."

She laughed, "Nothing so felonious. My father was too strict in his own morality to do anything so distasteful. He had no problem, however, slaughtering those he thought were guilty of the sin of comporting themselves with the supernatural. As my father aged, he refused to allow me to take over from him, but he could not deny needing my assistance in his frequent hunts. One night, with my help, we tracked genuine vampires. I was set upon by an elderly, starving vampire that was driven off by the threat of her own destruction at the hands of the hunters. I was forced to flee myself, lest they discover what I had become. I hid in a potato cellar during the three days of my transformation. Since that day, I have remained what I am."

She turned and took Emanuel's hand, "Except in subtle ways."

"That must be really strange," I said. "I mean, living now, after all the changes that have gone on over the years. There aren't so many potato cellars these days."

She chuckled, "The fanatical mobs are a bit less frequent but no less violent. The more the world changes, the more it stays the same."

The next we saw was Edwina's room. The layout confused me since there was no bed. I wondered momentarily why there was one in Alice and Jasper's room, then I felt myself blush and went back to looking about the room.

There was a very interesting settee, looking both elegant and antique as well as made with modern materials and machine precision. There were books and musical albums, lining the walls and the shelves with an organizational system that I couldn't follow. There was a simple laptop on a beautiful old writing desk in one corner, but an entire wall was glass and overlooked the woods and river through the back.

"So much music," I said, trying again to find the pattern.

She smiled and looked down, somewhere between shy and modest, "I love music. It is science and maths and feeling and heart. It is of reality and of mystery both. It is something I can measure and give voice to, but conveys something that can be spoken no other way."

"Play," said Emanuel.

Edwina looked suddenly childlike, in a way that I had never seen her before, as though something was excavating itself, an old giddy enthusiasm that was something children were only allowed to have. She took my hand, guiding me back down the stairs, to a raised section of the first floor, an almost stage upon which a large grand piano was set.

"You play," I said, not really asking. She guided me to sit beside her on the bench, and I sat with my hands folded in my lap. I was looking at the keys, waiting for her to begin, but then I realized that her eyes were on me. I turned to meet her gaze, and there was such a look of almost reverent adoration on her face, I felt my insides turn to jelly and my body fight not to tremble.

"I love you," she said and kissed me. Still awash in the emotion I imbibed with her every touch, she began to play.

It began slow, almost light, only a few keys being played at a time, sweet yet almost mournful, then bore a deep note, sounding like a misstep, unexpected and a bit jarring, than then pushed the piece into something else, and it began to resolve.

After a beat of silence, the song changed. The notes were shorter, faster, more complex, but with a new structure to them, easier to understand, with a new stability. After two spans of the same arch, it began to build upon itself, becoming high, almost gentle, feeling young somehow, even hopeful, before falling back down to the stability again, which seems all the more pleasant for knowing where it had gone and might go again. And it did. After another powerful pause, it began again, building itself into something more mature, more resonant, more visceral, working itself higher, and higher, to become gentle and wander back down, only to be renewed again. It was the ebb and flow of life, of love, of us... All of us, but especially me and her. It was what she had hummed me to sleep with the night before. It was all; it was everything. I couldn't disturb her playing, but I wanted to hold her to me in a way that was nearly painful for my inability to sate it.

It ended as only it could, almost abruptly, for it could easily have been played continuously, forever. It fell away in a drifting of notes that they themselves drifted into silence, only stamped out by the entropy of the universe over time. As soon as she lifted her hands from the keys, I took them and lifted them to my face, kissing them, wetting them with tears I didn't even notice were falling.

"I love you too," I said, feeling wholly inadequate and somehow not caring about that. She made me not care that I could never pay her back for how much of a gift her presence in my life was to me. I was content spending the rest of my life doing everything I could think of to try and rebalance the scales.

I noticed that we were alone. I slid my hand into her hair and guided her lips to mine. We thrilled into the kiss, her smile interfering as much as mine until our laughter could not be stifled.

"You don't have to wait, you know," she said. "You can treat me as you would when we are alone, even if my family is here."

I felt my face become a little hot, "That might be a bit rude. Besides, there are many, many things I would like to do to you that I don't think I would be up for with an audience."

"There will be time enough for that later," said Alice, walking up with Jasper, their hands clasped.

I tried to put some space between us, but Edwina would have none of it. She held me to her, keeping me close as we turned to face them.

"So, definitely storming?" asked Edwina, and I looked at her confused.

"I told you," she said. "There is going to be storms this evening. We are going to have the change to play some ball."

"Ball?" I asked. "As in...?"

"Baseball," said Alice, completely deadpan.

I looked between them, as though I was missing something. They laughed.

"We can't play unless there is a storm," said Jasper. "We can be a bit loud. Thunder helps."

"Why don't you show him something of what you mean?" asked Alice. "I know Em has been itching for a sparring partner."

"Don't scare him," came Emanuel's voice from somewhere upstairs.

"Dad!" whined Alice. "I know better!"

Edwina didn't look altogether happy.

"What?" I said, feeling a bit uncomfortable with her expression. "I don't have to do it. We can stay here."

There was a moment when Alice and Edwina looked at each other, and I got the impression that a long conversation was flying by in seconds. Edwina finally looked at me and smiled, an earnest smile.

"I still get scared that what we are might scare you," she said, squeezing me. "But we will be okay. Jasper may hunt easily, but when it comes to combat, he is the most experienced and in control member of this family. I shouldn't have doubted him."

We went out back, and to my surprise, Emily was already there. She was wearing minimal clothing, some athletic running pants and a sleeveless sports shirt, the sort of clothing that could allow for a great range of motion without getting in the way.

"Excellent," she said, seeing us. "We promise not to scare the boy too much."

Her tone insinuated just the opposite. Edwina rolled her eyes, but her lips fought a smile.

Jasper walked out to the yard to meet her, not caring at all that he was still wearing what amounted to very expensive clothing by my guess. They stood, facing off against each other, becoming still and focus in a way that was familiar from my time with Edwina, but still very alien. They gave nothing away, not even the evidence of life. And, after a growing tension that reminded me of bear traps, of potentially fatal crushing, they accelerated towards each other in a way that was confusing, inconceivable to me for its lack of precedence.

I am not sure how they fought. They were hazy blurs of translucent colors, nearly silent, the only telltale signs of their presence and violence was the effects on the world around them. The earth was tossed about, gauged, pulled up into small eddies and gusts, at times dancing in the air as vibrations shook the level ground upon which it sat. At times, one would fly upwards and around, as though thrown or jumping, I could never tell which. Finally, after what seemed the better part of ten minutes, there was a mild boom and a snarl and Emily went crashing into the nearest portion of river.

"That's enough," came Emanuel's voice as Emily surged back up, backwashing a large amount of river water up the banks after her with the speed and force of her return to meet Jasper again. They stopped at his words.

"You're just showing off," he said. "I know you wouldn't mind reattaching a limb, but I won't have you two trying to kill each other."

Emily rotated her shoulder once, and with a violent crackling and popping sound, something that I hadn't noticed was out of place in her posture and bearing seemed to right itself. Jasper smirked, and she begrudgingly smiled back.

"Next time," said Emily.

Jasper nodded, "We will see."

They bounded at each other again, but this time, it was companionable, fun, and they rolled and laughed as they sprang back to their feet, a large clod of dirt smeared on Jasper's nice shirt. Alice rolled her eyes, sighing.

It was then that I noticed something strange. I wanted to be out there with them. I wanted to bound about and mock fight and play. I wanted to pitch my will and myself against them in contest and realized that there was no way I could ever win. As I was, the only way I could best them in any way was through willing forfeiture. The far more telling part was the fact that I wanted to join them. I had never been so compelled, except for maybe a time when I first started martial arts or maybe a few times at school, but for the most part, I had only ever wanted to want to be a part of something rather than just wanting to be a part of it. This was new to me, a potential first, and it made me content, even if I didn't actually get what I wanted.

Alice sat beside me, bumping shoulders with me in a playful way, as though reminding me as that I had a body and to ground me in the moment as much as focusing my attention on her.

"You like it here," she said, not asking.

I smiled at her, and wanted to put my arm around her for some reason.

"Of course," I said, my other hand still clasped in Edwina's as I glanced at her, my smile deepening. "How could I not?"

"No," Alice said, shaking her head. "It isn't about her. Don't get me wrong, she is like the best sister ever and I am so happy for you two, but don't downplay yourself. You like it here for you, too."

It was true. I did, and I nodded.

"Yeah," I confirmed. "I could be happy here, indefinitely, I think. It isn't the luxury or means. It is the homeliness, the family, the contented acceptance."

"It isn't always that way," said Alice. "We are vampires after all. We hunt, causing bloody death, and we sometimes fight, for real, though not amongst ourselves."

"Against whom?" I asked, suddenly thinking of the Quileutes for some reason.

She laughed, "Other vampires. It is not a common thing, but one that happens from times to time. Nomads come through these parts at times, and since we try to live peacefully with humans, we prevent human death by our kind in this area. If vampires cannot be civil enough to respect our claim on this region, we, at times, must destroy them."

I bobbed my head, "Okay, but I don't understand why you are telling me this."

She laughed, "You do know why, silly. We aren't sugar coating this for you, not just telling you the parts of us that we are comfortable sharing. We are what we are. You need to know that. It isn't all fun and games here. There is responsibility and hardships, just as there are anywhere else. Even among ourselves, there are trials. At times, some more than others, we have to tolerate each other as best we can."

"I heard that," came Rory's voice from around the side of the house.

I laughed along with the two girls beside me and found that when I stopped, my arm was in fact around Alice's tiny shoulders. She beamed at me, and she didn't stop, even as her voice took on a more somber tone.

"Being here with us is not an easy path," she said. "You will not escape the less pleasant aspects of life here. It will be hard, no matter what choices or changes you might make."

I knew what she meant. She meant whether or not I remained human.

"But," she said, "there are reasons to be here, and not be here too. Understand that there are no right answers. The best decision you can make will always be the best one you can make. Just remember that making a choice because of what you are afraid to loose will never end well."

I thought about it. What was I afraid to lose? Edwina was easily at the top of the list. I realized then that death was on that list too, and it was lower down than her. I would rather die than lose her. That scared me. I understood it and knew there wasn't anything I could do to change it, but it still scared me.

They both put their hard arms around me, and their comfortable chill seeped into me. Though I found no solution, I felt resolved, if for a time.

We spent the rest of the day talking and laughing. I did eat some, insisting on finding my way around their kitchen, which was huge and stocked with so many different cooking implements, I doubted there wasn't a meal they couldn't prepare if they had the requisite ingredients. Aside from Jasper's standoffishness and Rory's occasional aloof appearances, there wasn't much about the visit that wasn't profoundly enjoyable. As we finally said our goodbyes and climbed back into the silver car, I looked over at Edwina, finally able to voice my concerns.

"Did they like me?" I asked, unable and unwilling to hide the nervousness in my voice.

"What?" she asked, sounding surprised. "Of course they liked you! You're amazing. You are the best boy I've ever brought home!"

The girlish lilt to her voice was something rather at odds with her usual manner, but something I found that I enjoyed immensely. I took her hand and kissed it.

"I don't think I will ever get over how happy I am when I am with you," I said.

She smiled slowly, "I will never get tired of you feeling that way, nor will I ever stop feeling that way about you in return."

I grinned at her, which lasted just long enough to realize that we were on our way back to my house, where I would be introducing her to my mom. I wondered what it said about me that doing that was more nerve-wracking than spending the afternoon with a bunch of vampires.

We pulled up to the house just as Edwina asked, "Would you like to come with us tonight, to hang out while we play baseball?"

I laughed, "I still can't get over that. It is so..."

"Incongruous?" she asked.

"Laughable!" I said. "I can't even picture it."

She leaned over and drew my face to hers, kissing me with a gentleness that was just so, if with a grip that spoke of desiring more passion.

"Is that a yes, then?" she asked as the kiss broke.

"Of course," I said. "No amount of time with you could ever be enough."

She smiled, "We should get in there. Your mother has noticed us."

We stepped out of the car, and I could already feel butterflies even before we had made it halfway to the house. She took my hand with her gloved one, not my arm, and in that, I gathered that she would be playing human, which should have been obvious to me. I was perfectly okay with that. My mom didn't need all the gory details.

"Hello," she said, meeting us at the door.

"Hi," said Edwina, her tone a little higher, something about her posture and voice seemingly less mature, though not brainless or vapid.

"I'm Edwina," she said smiling, offering her gloved hand. Mom shook it.

"Nice to meet you," she said, her tone very formal. "I'm Chief Hawkins. You may call me, Carrie."

"It's nice to meet you too," said Edwina. "This is a lovely home you have here."

"Thank you," she said, "but let's not kid ourselves here; this isn't the first time you have been in it."

I blinked, affronted, "Mom!"

Edwina looked embarrassed, almost as embarrassed as I felt.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking distressed in a way that had me tied up in knots myself. "It's true. I spent time here yesterday. Ben and I weren't up to anything untoward. We did some kissing on your couch, but that was all, honest."

Mom seemed to relax, if begrudgingly.

"I want to make one thing clear to you," she said, her tone still hard in that way only a police officer's could be. "This is my home. You will respect that, and me, and not be in it unless I am home as well. If you abuse my trust, you will not be welcome here. Is that understood?"

I was seriously considering curling up and dying, right there, or at least protesting, threatening to move out, something, but Edwina nodded gravely.

"Of course, Chief Hawkins," she said. "You're right. I will do as you say."

Carrie finally seemed to relax, then changed into a much more pleasant version of herself.

"It is very nice to meet you," she said, and to my surprise, Edwina shifted similarly. I suddenly felt like I was standing on uneven ground.

"Ben has told me a lot about you," she said sweetly.

"Oh," she said, gesturing us towards the kitchen and table. "He hasn't told me much about you."

Edwina smiled, "Yeah, well, this is still pretty new to both of us. Your son is an amazing person. I have never met anyone quite like him. Just trying to figure out how I feel about him would take longer than the handful of days we have actually been dating. I could understand why it might be hard for him to voice his own feelings so soon."

I looked at her, understanding that she was entirely right and honest, without saying too much or anything embarrassing. I loved her, but I didn't fully understand it yet, or what it meant. I had a hard time voicing it to myself in my own head in a way that meant more than the simple phrase. How was I supposed to tell my mother how I felt when I didn't have the words she would understand?

"Oh, of course," said Carrie, and there was a tone to her voice that I didn't like. "It's far too early to be rushing into anything. I mean, you two have only been dating a short amount of time. You don't need to be worrying about all that yet. Just have fun. But not too much fun."

"Of course not," Edwina laughed. "I'm a big believer in doing the right thing. Your son is too important to rush into anything. He cares about me, and I care about him. I couldn't ask for more without being horribly selfish!"

Mom chuckled at that, "Okay, okay. Enough of the schmaltzy stuff. Tell me about you, Edwina. How's school? What do you do for fun?"

"School is very good," she said. "My grades are high and I am enjoying my studies. For fun, I spend time with my family, read, play piano, and now, date your son. I know you said enough of the relationship talk, but he is my first serious boyfriend and he is important to me. Anyway, how about you? What is it like raising Ben?"

It seemed a strange question to me, one I didn't expect her to answer, but funnily enough, she did.

"Raising a kid is tough," she said. "I had Ben at a really young age, but that's okay. I wouldn't have done it any other way. And yet, had I known then what I know now, I would have made a different decision. I was young and stupid like that. But now, you're right; he's a great kid. He pretty much handles himself better than some adults I know. Still, it is a lot of responsibility."

"It is," Edwina agreed. "I know I am not ready for it."

It just slipped out, "I think you would make a great mom."

Both of them looked at me with very different looks of utter surprise. Edwina's more incredulous, and Mom's completely terrified.

"I'm not going to worry about that anytime soon," Edwina laughed. "Besides, I will never have children, biologically."

Mom looked confused, "Why?"

Edwina smiled, though it was a little sad, "I have a rare genetic disorder. The short version is that I can't have kids. If I am going to be a mom, it's adoption for me."

Carrie looked equally relieved and horrified.

"I'm..." she said, "I'm sorry. That can't be easy."

Edwina smiled, "I can't be too disappointed with what life has given me. I am kind of blessed with some of the more recent developments."

She smiled at me, and I smiled back. I settled for squeezing her hand under the table.

"Any thoughts on where you might want to go to college?" asked Mom. I was instantly weary of the question, but I didn't know why.

"I haven't decided," she said. "I won't start applying until next year, but I don't think I will have much trouble finding a school I like. College is very important to me, but so is going to the right one. I don't want to miss out on anything."

"Certainly not," said Carrie. "With such an important decision, you want to make sure you make it for the right reasons. Otherwise, you could be living with your choice the rest of your life."

"Enough, Mom," I said, and I wasn't entirely sure why. I couldn't figure out the words, but something about her tone was just really disingenuous and was starting to bug me.

"Okay," she conceded, "okay. Enough with the third degree. Can I get you anything, Edwina?"

"No thank you," she said. "I just eat before coming here, and I won't be staying too long. I am actually going to be playing a game of baseball with my family. Ben is invited, if he would like to come."

"Sure," I said because it seemed the thing to say.

"Aren't you two-" she started, but I looked mortified at her, and she threw up her hands.

"Okay," she said again. "Ben, you know your curfew. It's a school night. I will see you when you get home."

"Do you want me to start dinner or anything before we go?" I asked. I hadn't cooked in several nights, after all.

"I am perfectly capable of fending for myself," Mom said. "Go. Have fun."

"Thanks, mom," I said, smiling. "See you tonight."

"It really was lovely to meet you, Chief Hawkins," said Edwina.

"Please," said Mom, "call me Carrie."

"Carrie," Edwina affirmed. "Thanks, and bye."

"Bye," said Mom.

We walked out. As soon as we were in the car, I kissed her with as much passion as she seemed to be restraining before. She laughed.

"What was that for?" she asked.

"That was awful," I said. "You shouldn't have to put up with that sort of thing from my mom."

"She cares a lot about you," she said. "That's something we have in common. From that point of view, it really isn't anything that bothers me."

I kissed her again, gentler.

"Did that go as well as you hoped?" I asked.

"Better, actually," she said. "Now, are you ready for a night you'll never forget?"

"Absolutely," I said, and we drove away.


	15. Chapter 15: Baseball

"So," she said, turning down the street to her house, "we have two options."

"Okay," I said warily. She grinned at me. Somehow, I wasn't reassured.

"One, we can run the whole way to the field where we play," she said. "It's high in the mountains, and it can't be reached by road."

I felt momentarily queasy, "And the other option?"

She nodded, "We can take Emily's jeep and only run part of the way."

I shuttered.

"Never mind," I said. "Let's just hang out at your house, since we can't be alone at mine anymore."

She frowned, but there was a thoughtfulness in her expression that made me think she just might be considering it.

"No, come on!" she complained. "We don't frequently have a storm that allows us to play. You have seen us fight. I want you to see us have fun too."

I grimaced, "But we have to run there. Or you have to run. I just have to try and not puke."

She really did frown, "Was it so hard for you?"

I felt myself sag, "No. Well, yes and no. It wasn't like it made me sick because it was puke-inducing. It is just so weird, so unusual, my body doesn't know how to cope. It's just hard to handle."

She nodded as we stopped out front her house.

"I can help with that," she said.

Before I could think what that meant, she was out of the car. She came around to my door in a flash, opening it for me. Before I could exit, she grabbed me, dragging me out just fast enough for me to find my feet before I would have fallen. I was at a total loss as she shoved me up against the side of her car, and kissed me fiercely, her arms and legs entwining themselves around me, her weight completely on me, the car supporting us both as she held herself to me. The roughness, the passion, her hard and so smooth she almost felt soft self pressing at me, the sensation, her cold wash out my warmth, her scent, her lips, her breath, the low moan of desire she let seep from her; it was all too much!

I could barely form a coherent thought. She hopped down from me, the kiss not breaking, and her forceful handling of me continued. There was a rush, a frantic surge, almost as though I was falling, yet somehow I felt completely safe. At last, we settled against a tree, and her kissing relaxed. So did I.

"Ben!" I heard her cry as I slumped forward, my vision gray around the edges, nearly unconscious.

I lost a few seconds, but then my brain seemed to catch up, and I could make sense of her face above me.

"I think you made me faint," I said, sounding a little hoarse.

"Oh thank God," she said, her hands flying over me, doing a quick assessment. "You're alright."

I slowly sat up.

"As much as I am probably going to regret this," I said, "maybe you shouldn't kiss me like that for a while, not until I'm used to it."

"And remember important things like breathing?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said. "That's a good one."

"I swear," she said, "you're going to be the death of me, Ben."

I frowned at her as I made my way to my feet.

"How do you figure that?" I asked, sounding unhappy.

She shook her head, "I'm going to end up killing you by accident, even if it isn't over your blood, and then where will I be?"

"I don't know," I said coolly, "probably right on back to whatever your life was before I came along and complicated your existence."

She looked positively heartsick at the idea. I felt like an ass.

"Could you so easily go back to whatever your life was before I complicated it?" she more pointed out than asked.

For some reason, I thought about it. I don't know why, but in that moment, the idea struck me as so impossible, I had to consider it, in the same sort of macabre way we wonder what it would be like to jump from tall buildings.

It hurt. It hurt so deeply that I felt sick, physically ill as visceral despair drown me, ripping me down from light, from breath, from hope. The idea of having everything I desired of life, disappearing... It left me a more miserable wretch than I had ever thought I could be.

My expression must have been as bad as hers, maybe worse, for she immediately visited upon my a barrage of little affections, trying to sway my mood.

"I'm truly sorry," she apologized. "It wasn't my intent to make you sad. I put myself at your mercy. Visit any retribution upon me that you should see fit."

Something danced through my mind, and I felt my lips twist into a devious smile as I came at her.

"I..." she began.

I had been paying attention. Her ability to drive me wild was not insubstantial. I figured that if it worked well on me, given her vampire senses, she might just go crazy if I did the same to her.

I moved around her, circling her, wrapping my hands about her hips. It took me a moment to realize that her clothing a was different, but I paid it no mind. I tilted her neck to one side, kissing the side of her neck as I pulled her hair away, tracing her ear and its lobe with my tongue, doing so with a slow yet steady pattern. She put her hands against my chest, gesture of restraint as she bowed with the weight of the sensations I was inflicting upon her, but it wasn't until I curled my fingers around the hem of her shirt, my fingernails brushing the skin between shirt and whatever she wore over her legs, that she finally dove away from me, her breath ragged, gouging the tree as she moved back, a look of equal parts hunger and lust bearing down on me, almost daring herself to come back to me.

"You will be the death of me," she all but hissed, her expression too severe for her words to be playful.

"I have faith in you," I said, my own breath suddenly a bit rough. I very much wanted the kissing to continue, selfish as I knew it to be.

"Too much," she retorted, and for a moment I was left wondering if what I had done was too much or if she believed I had too much faith in her.

"Come on," she said, slyly, once she seemed in control of herself again. "Maybe have my family around might get you to behave."

"Don't challenge me," I said.

"Please don't," she said, and I came up short.

"What?" I asked, realizing that I had upset her, deep concern in my voice and stand.

Her expression softened considerably.

"Don't push our luck," she said. "I really did nearly lose it just then. I am not this perfect paragon of control that you seem to think that I am. It... hurts, just thinking about what I might do to you if I lose myself, not just in a frenzy of hunger, but also in a moment of thoughtless lust. Let me do what I need to keep you safe. Don't make this any harder than it needs to be."

I felt immensely foolish.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't... I'm sorry."

She clutched my face, "And you are forgiven. Come now. They'll be waiting."

We began walking through the trees. I hoped she knew where we were going because the trees have no indication if we were headed in the right direction.

"When did you change?" I asked, for want of something better to say.

"Oh," she laughed. "Between exiting the car and deciding to distract you."

"See, that's not fair," I said. "I mean I get it; it's about keeping me safe. But you get to push me over the edge all you want. Double standard much?"

"It's all a matter of risk," she said. "The worst I could do... neither of us wants to think about. The worst you could do-"

"Is make a mess," I said.

Edwina looked utterly shocked, and through the tree came a roll of deep, booming laughed.

"Really?" asked Emily, suddenly standing before us. "You really just said that? Really? Oh, he is definitely a keeper. Look at that blush!"

The curling up and dying venture again peaked my interest. I was pretty sure my face was about to burst into flames.

"We need to keep him around just for the comedy gold," she said. "I bet you four to one odds that he falls down before the end of the night."

I was seriously considering walking home. I thought I could get there before school tomorrow. Maybe.

"Oh come now," said Emily. "You can't take some good old fashion rabble rousing, how are you going to handle-"

"That's enough, Em," said Edwina, and for some reason, I got the impression that Edwina didn't want me to hear whatever Emily was going to say.

"Fine," she said. "It's game time anyway. Let's go! Wooh!"

I made my way into the field, Edwina at my side. It was mostly clear, so much so that there didn't seem to be any signs of bases or the like. The ground was flat to the tree line, and there was a pair of chairs set up, which struck me as odd. Emanuel sat in one, and he gestured for me to take the other. I noticed that there was an equipment bag set beside him, with a few bats and balls visible once I had approached.

Edwina kissed me and dashed out to the field, the rest of the family taking their places.

"Hello," Emanuel said as I sat beside him. "I'll be refereeing today, and catching any balls that might come in this direction. You never know."

It occurred to me that being here might actually be a little dangerous. After seeing Jasper and Emily battle, it was not hard to imagine just how seriously injured I would be should those kinds of forces be directed at me.

"Thank you," I said politely, acknowledging that my life very much was in his hands. His smile was very genuine.

"You are quite welcome," he said, turning his attention to the field. It was Alice, Katherine, and Edwina versus Rory, Emily, and Jasper.

"Do you ever play?" I asked, watching as Alice picked up a ball and bounced it into the air as she blurred into position near the middle of the field. Jasper spun a bat around his hand as he stood more than sixty feet away. Then, he pulled it up, catching it expertly and taking a batter's position. It was then that I understood why I couldn't see the bases. For one, I was looking too close in. For another, they were too far for me to be able to make them out clearly.

"Sometimes," said Emanuel as Katherine took position as catcher, giving Jasper plenty of room. Edwina stood close in center field, drifting slightly to the left.

"Mostly," he went on, "I like to keep up accountability. They can get pretty competitive, and I like making sure it's all good clean fun. It's what I enjoy."

My dad was, hands down, an awesome dad. He didn't always make great decisions, and his parenting left a lot of room for me to do my own thing and make my own mistakes, but he was really supportive and communicated clearly and loved me. I could tell Emanuel was an equally good, if totally different, kind of dad.

"Did you always want to be a dad?" I asked.

He gave a breathy laugh, "Sure did. Well before I became what I am. I was a teacher in my human years, something that was hugely uncommon at the time. I crippled my leg falling out of a tree when I was a little boy, and spent my formative years sedentary with only books for company. I loved looking after the little ones in town, which I frequently did since I wasn't running off like the other boys my age. It seemed natural I should become a teacher and father. I will never again have a child of my own, but if I had wanted to remain on a path in which that was possible, I would have died, surely."

It took me a moment to understand him. Alice pitched the ball. Or, at least, she changed position practically instantaneously, and as she did so, Jasper did the same, a boom roaring to the nearby mountainside with enough volume to come echoing back. I had no idea where the ball went, or Edwina for that matter. I was pretty sure the ball was powder drifting in the breeze, or else embedded in solid rock on the far side of the nearby mountains, when suddenly Emanuel raised a hand.

"Out," he said, his voice pitched as though speaking only to me, but from their responses, all heard him. Edwina came bounding trough the tree line a fraction of a second later, bouncing the ball herself. She darted up to me, planting a quick, exhilarated kiss on my cheek, then took her position as Emily stepped up to bat.

"'Again have a child'?" I asked, coming back to the conversation.

"I was a father biologically only once," he said. "My wife was not the most compassionate woman, and despite her many abuses, there was no alternative, no socially acceptable means for me to have a child, which I so desperately wanted, I was willing to endure her. The child's death less than a week later was not something I could endure."

Emily literally roared as she drove the bat through the air, my chair nearly toppling if it wasn't for the quick reflexes of Emanuel. The ball bounced wildly, so strange was the spin upon it, but was still no match for Edwina's speed, a speed I was starting to believe was greater than most of her family. The two girls crashed together as Emily tried to plow around the bases, the crash so violent I stood in concern before Emanuel put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"They are alright," he said. "Our bodies are quite durable, after all."

I settled again, remembering our conversation.

"Edwina said you fell from a cliff," I stated, and he smiled, his body trembling with silent, humorless laughter.

"Jumped would be a more accurate description," he said. "It was the third most painful experience of my life. Losing my child was the second."

"The transformation was the first," I added.

He nodded, "You're pretty well informed."

"I pick up details," I said. "Plus, Edwina is honest."

"When she isn't being thoughtful," he said, his body still trembling a little.

"She does that," I said, smiling at her.

Rory smashed the ball deep into the trees, and it was then that I noticed just how much old damage had been done to those woods, trees and branches broken, some uprooted, dead wood dangling in places. Despite the ball bouncing around, Edwina still managed to beat him home.

"How are you doing?" he asked, his attention wholly on me as they switched around, Emily pitching now, Rory catching and Jasper outfield. "I'm sure that it must be very different, spending time with a bunch of vampires."

I laughed, "That's one word for it. Honestly, it isn't all that different. Just like any other social situation, there are ups and downs. It just opportunity cost."

Edwina cracked the ball with a force compounded by the strength of the pitch. I wasn't sure how much longer the ball would last, but I had a feeling they went through more than one per game.

I was about to say that there wasn't much I would be willing to risk for Edwina when she stopped moving. The more unsettling part of this was her momentum was too fast for her to simply stop, so she drifted, skidding across the ground, her expression locked into one of shock and horror.

"Alice," said Katherine, and it was only then that I noticed at Alice was in similar throws of distress.

"They heard us," she said. "I knew that they might, but every time they would before, they would be wary. I don't know what changed. I didn't see it. I didn't look for it. It's done now, so I don't know what it was. But they are coming. There's nothing we can do. They're too close."

I was out of the chair, Edwina at my side. All the others didn't require any other explanation than this. I looked at her.

"What did you keep from me?" I asked.

"Nomads," she said. "I hoped that I could keep you safe without you even knowing they were in the area. Not only was I wrong, I put you closer to them than you would ever otherwise be. I'm such a fool."

Before I could argue, before I could contradict, before I could inquire, we weren't alone on the field anymore.

The Cullens had gathered in a group, with Edwina at its center, as though guarding her. I was at her side, the truly vulnerable one. Jasper and Emily were at the outside edges, with Katherine at our front. Directly across the field stood three vampires.

The male in the center had read hair that fell in a slightly curling mane about his face, a rough of beard about the underside of his chin that matched his hair perfectly. He had pronounced cheekbones and a broad, somewhat flat nose, all giving him the appearance of a rather regal leonine king. He wore a fur skinned vest over an open flannel shirt and simple jeans, his boots worn but modern. He was flanked by two women, a dark skinned beauty with a rather aristocratic air about her, and a blonde haired female, nearly as tall as I, with an understated grace. All three had brilliant, blazing red eyes that all but glowed in the soon to be fading light.

The male spoke, but from the distance and the way he didn't attempt to make his voice carry, my ears weren't enough to hear it.

"We were just finishing up, actually," Katherine said rather pleasantly. "A few of us were heading back. Those staying can decide for themselves."

He spoke again, gesturing to his companions.

"I am Katherine, my mate is Emanuel," she replied. "Jasper and Alice. Ben and Edwina. Emily and Rory."

He made a motion to move closer, and I could practically feel Edwina stiffen beside me. There was a strong breeze that whipped past us, the storm head just passing over us, and with a flash of lightning and the subsequent bomb of thunder, everything changed.

The blonde female's eyes found mine and almost as though drawn by an unseen force, like magnetism, she came at me. Emily and Jasper closed ranks, Edwina putting her body between her's and mine.

The female came up short, the male behind her and to one side, holding her arm.

"He is one of us," said Katherine, her voice loud enough that they would clearly hear it, even if they had been human.

"Of course," said the dark female, equally loud and politely. "We understand. We will leave in peace."

They stepped back, and once they had reformed their group, they dashed into the trees and out of sight.

Edwina grabbed me, pulling me over her shoulders, so quickly it almost hurt. She charged off, running with a speed that started to make me feel ill, feel uncomfortable pressure.

I heard someone calling, but couldn't make it out. It sounded horribly warped, but slowly formed itself into words.

"-down, Edwina," said Katherine. "You're going to injure him."

There was another few dashes, another long run, a leap, and we came to rest in the yard of the Cullen home. I was close to puking.

Alice, Katherine, and Emanuel bustled me inside, carefully allowing me to catch my breath, but still wanting to get me out of sight.

"What happened?" I asked.

Edwina snarled, sounding as though she was ready to hit something.

"Jamie would have killed you," said Alice. "The only reason she didn't was that she had no hope of getting past all of us."

"She's a tracker," said Edwina. "She lives for the hunt, and it looks as though we made this one her most interesting one yet. She won't stop! We have no choice."

"Edwina," I said, loudly, starting to feel frightened by her reaction if anything. "Talk to me! What's happening?!"

She seemed to focus on me, and in a moment, she began speaking, the words flowing out of her in a continuous stream.

"The three nomads are named Jamie, Victor, and Laurent," she said. "They are not near as close as my family, but Jamie has an ability, like mine. She is a tracker, someone who can find a subject with near supernatural precision. She is passionate about hunting game, especially game that is hard to get at. She has set her sights upon you. She is tracking you, even now, and she won't stop until one or the other of you are dead."

"Are you sure she cannot be reasoned with?" asked Katherine. "I understand that we might have no choice, but-"

"No," said Edwina, her voice icy and sharp. "She won't ever stop. This is too good for her to give up on. A large number of our kind, at least two of which are experienced fighters, and me..."

Finally, what she was saying sunk in.

"I have to go home," I said quickly.

"Ben," said Emanuel.

"No!" I nearly cried. "My mother! If she tracks me, she could find my house. She could-"

"Alice," said Edwina.

"We have time," said Alice. "There are a few different ways this can go. It mostly depends on Ben."

I froze, "What?"

"She's after you," said Alice. "You're smart and insightful, and you know what is at stake. What do you want to do?"

I thought about what she meant. I knew what it meant to be a vampire. The speed, the strength, the senses, the mind. All of those means were now bent upon ending my life.

Edwina hissed, "He doesn't get to decide for me. I don't care! He can hate me for being selfish!"

A look crossed between her and Alice

"No!" she said, but then relented. "Fine! I said fine!"

"I need to go," I said.

"Not home," said Edwina.

"I have to," I protested, "if only to tell my mom something to keep her from trying to hunt me down herself."

"Where?" said Alice. "You go home, make your excuses, then what?"

Edwina hissed, "No!"

"Enough, Ina," said Emanuel.

She started pacing around the room, nearly blurring with the speed of it.

"What?" I asked Alice.

She didn't say a thing to clarify, "Then what?"

"We run," I said.

"Who?" she asked. "Be specific."

"Edwina and I," I said. "We head to... Phoenix."

"That is the first place someone who knows anything about you would look," Edwina all but snapped.

"Exactly," I said. "It's stupidly obvious. Why would I go there when I could go anywhere in the world."

A sudden thought occurred to me; anywhere in the world. Edwina and I, together, hidden, free to do whatever we wanted, her means and funds supplying us indefinitely, us doing whatever we wished to do. The idea was so intoxicating, the grief that crossed my face once I realized that it was not an option was staggering.

Edwina was instantly at my side, holding me close but still looking deep into my eyes at length, "Love, there is nothing to worry about. There is only three of them, and we have gifts of our own. She won't have you. We will kill her first."

The idea of Edwina fighting on my behalf was intolerable.

"Don't argue," Alice said. "It's her choice and it won't do any good right now."

I shut my mouth, but then said, "You're not coming with me."

Edwina looked positively sick.

"No," she all but tore out the word. "They will need me here. I may not be able to track, but I will have the best chance at knowing when Jamie is nearby."

"Which means I'm going with you," said Alice.

Edwina looked displeased.

"One of us needs to," said Alice. "If it isn't one of us, his life is at significant risk. You see that. Are you really going to argue that risking his life is worth increased odds of taking her down?"

Edwina looked like she wanted to, but said nothing.

"I am," I said. "If the odds go up that you'll stop her here, then you both should be here."

"I won't allow that," said Edwina. "It's my fault that-"

"That what?" I said. "That I decided to come tonight? That the nomads decided to look in on our game? That Jamie decided to hunt me? It isn't your fault."

"I-" she said, her voice catching in her throat, her face so contorted that I kept expecting tears in her eyes.

The rest of the Cullens and the Hales entered. Edwina looked suddenly vicious.

"We had a conversation with the Frenchwoman," said Jasper. "She will not be joining the hunt. She relayed that Jamie is not a force to be reckoned. She went north to the cousins. Now it is just the two."

"Who is going with Ben?" asked Alice.

"Emily or Jasper," suggested Edwina and Katherine at the same moment, but Katherine went on, "If both Edwina and Alice are staying, one of the fighters should be with Ben."

Jasper shook his head, "I'm not leaving Alice."

Alice rolled her eyes but didn't argue.

"Rory and Emily then," said Edwina.

"Why?" demanded Rory. "What is he to me, besides to nuisance?"

"Rory," cajoled Emily, "he's-"

Rory hissed, "He isn't one of us."

With a sudden cold expression, Edwina looked right into Rory's face. Jasper stood straighter, taking a weary step closer, as though preparing himself for a fight, to throw himself between them. Rory looked even more fierce than Edwina.

"Okay," he said. "I will take the snack where he wishes to go. You will just have to find some way to repay me, idiot."

I was very close to being affronted, even more so when I realized he was talking about Edwina.

"Okay," she said. "We will take you home, so you can give your mother your excuses. After that, we will take you to the bus station. You will buy a ticket to... Where?"

"L.A." I said. "We lived there for a while. I will tell my mom I'm driving. She won't check."

"Let's go," said Alice. "We have time, right now. Let's hurry."

We drove back in the silver car, and just before we pulled up to my mom's, Alice and Emily slipped out of the car. We pulled up.

"I'll be in your room," said Edwina. "You have ten minutes. Make your excuses, grab anything you might need, and leave."

I had been thinking about what to say since we had left the Cullens' house.

"I am going to have to say some pretty hurtful things," I said. "She won't let me go otherwise."

"It's okay," said Edwina. "I love you, no matter what. And so does she, even if she doesn't know how to say it."

"I know," I said. "I'm using that. Which just makes it worse."

I left the car. I walked to the door, slamming it behind me. I had never slammed a door in my life, not even throwing tantrums as a kid.

"Whoa," said Carrie, walking in from the living room. "Hey, what's going on?"

"I'm done," I said. "I've had enough. I'm going home."

She stared blankly at me.

"What?" she asked, beyond confused.

"I was kidding myself," I said. "I thought I could have a life here. But it just isn't for me. I don't want to be here anymore. I thought it was what I wanted. I was wrong."

She looked a little green. I have no idea what my dad had actually said to her, but these were the same phrases he used whenever he talked about leaving.

"What happened?" she asked, sounding as though she was coming back to herself. "Did... did your girlfriend break up with you?"

I laughed, the stress and worry making it sound very strained.

"I broke up with her," I said. "I wasn't going to stay anymore, so what would be the point."

"What?" asked Carrie again. "What do you mean? Talk to me, Benji."

"No," I said. I went to my room and closed the door. Edwina was already holding my backpack, my school items stacked neatly on my desk. I started throwing things to her, and they seemed to fold themselves into her hand as she shoved them into the back. I grabbed my wad of cash that I kept in a sock under my bed. I grabbed my passport, just in case, and I turned my back on Edwina, knowing I would meet her outside. She shoved the bag onto my shoulders, and then I gave her a second to clear the room before I opened the door.

"Talk to me," said Carrie, having said it a handful of times at my door.

I had to push it even further.

"I'm going home," I said.

"This is your home," she said.

"No, it isn't," I said, all emotion draining from my voice as I gritted my teeth, ready to do what I had to.

"It never was," I said. "I see the way you talk to me, how you treat me. I am just here, a virtual roommate. You might care about me, but when it counts, you are more concerned with your own feelings than mine. You care more about yourself than you ever did me. I can't keep pretending, Carrie. I'm going home to Dad, where I belong."

I didn't remember walking out. I didn't remember the look of blankness intermingled with hurt on my mother's face. I didn't remember the slam of the door behind me. I didn't remember being momentarily confused by the silver car's absence. I didn't remember slapping my pockets, finding my keys that shouldn't have been there. I didn't remember the shock of the roaring engine. I didn't remember Edwina arriving.

"Here," she said, managing to slide around me to take over driving. I scooted back to the passenger seat, sitting still and silent as the tears rolled and fell.

"We are almost to the bus stop," said Edwina. "Everything is going to be okay. I know, Alice. Thank you."

Edwina looked over at me.

"We are going to have to make this quick," she said. "We have a small window. I will park your truck near the bus station. It will be alright until this is over. But I am not getting out when you leave this vehicle."

It suddenly occurred to me that we were splitting up. It seemed the stupidest decision I ever could have made.

"I love you," I said desperately. "I will always love you."

"And I you, love," she said. "I will do what it takes to make you safe. You have nothing to worry about. Everything will be okay."

If I had one wish, one true desire, it would be that she was right. But I knew better. Being with her felt too good to be true. Turns out that it was. Somehow, I wasn't surprised.

"Walk to the ticket window," she said. "Look at the schedule for two minutes. Ask for the time. Then walk to the curb. Get in the black car."

"I'm not getting a ticket?" I asked.

She shook her head, "You won't need it."

She stopped at the station. I wanted to kiss her with all the desperation I felt. I wanted to touch her, to have her in all the ways I might never be able to. Instead, I kissed her tenderly, carefully, trying to pour every ounce of meaning I could into it, putting the love of a lifetime of kisses behind that one, the one that might just be our last. She made a sound as though her heart was breaking. Mine was.

I did as she said, every step. Returning to the curb, I found a sleek luxury car waiting with tinted glass. I opened the door that was closest to me, the right rear. I slid inside and closed the door. Rory was driving. As soon as the door was closed, we drove, swiftly and near silently, aside from Emily whispering into a small phone.

"We got him," she said. "We'll check in when we are situated in Phoenix."

I collapsed across the seat. I did not sleep, but in a matter of moments, I was gone.


	16. Chapter 16: Hunted

We got off the highway, pulling up to a hotel, not far from the airport. I hadn't really spoken or said much of anything. As soon as we got the room, I went into the bathroom, had my human minute, showered, and slipped into bed. I don't know how long I slept, but when I woke, there was a tray of food next to my bed and a note.

 **We checked in. Everything is going according to plan. Edwina sends her love. I will be in the living room if you want to hang out. E**

I tried to eat. The only thing that gave me the least bit of appetite was thinking how Edwina would feel if she knew how little food I had had. At last, I walked out into the living room of our suite.

Emily was lounging on the couch, taking up a lot of space even though she was still and not a whole lot bigger than me, other than her muscle.

"Hey kid," she said. "Wanna rent some hotel porn? I swear Edwina will never know."

I don't know why, but it made me laugh.

"No thank you," I said, sitting down on the couch. She flipped through a few channels, settling on something sporty. I think it might have looked like I was watching, had I not been mostly starting at the wall.

"Where's Rory?" I asked.

"Our room," said Emily, nodded towards the suits other room. "He isn't happy at the moment. I have no idea what Ina has on him to make him be here, but it must be bad. I haven't seen him this bent out of shape since Alice moved in."

"Why?" I asked.

Emily laughed, "You've seen how she acts, what she knows. Imagine her just showing up, acting as though you've been old friends for decades, moves into your life, and doesn't bother explaining anything unless she absolutely has no other choice."

I snorted, "Yeah, I'm sure that would be enough to bend most people out of shape. "

"Rory means well," she said. "He just understands something that most people don't and is passionate about it."

"What's that?" I asked.

"In the end," she said, "the most important person in your life is you. Anyone who tells you different is kidding themselves."

I frowned, "I can't agree with that."

"You're wrong," she said simply. "You just believe that you aren't worth anything unless you are willing to sacrifice yourself for those you love. And that's cool, really. Totally up to you to believe that. But, I'm sure you'll be happier in the long run if you remember that you're the one who has to live with your decisions. You both could stand to learn that."

"Me and Rory?" I asked, confused.

"You and Ina," she said. "I swear, you two are perfect for each other. You're both convinced it's not going to work out."

Then, something occurred to me that never really had.

"What did Alice see?" I asked.

She smiled, "Finally! You finally got it. Unfortunately, Edwina made me promise not to say a word about that."

There was something about her expression.

"Did she say anything about you shaking your head or nodding?" I asked.

Emily laughed, "Okay, I'm starting to forgive her for forcing me out of the fight. This just might be as much fun!"

I thought about it.

"Do I become a vampire?" I ask.

She seemed to consider that, flipping her palm back and forth.

"Maybe?" I asked. "Why maybe?"

She just looked at me.

I started putting thoughts together thinking about Edwina's words, everything she had said to me, realizing that her certainty might have been more than an educated guess.

"Death," I said. "Vampire or death."

She nodded, looking at me, her expression a little grave.

Why hadn't I seen it before?

"Edwina is against it," I said. "Against me becoming a vampire. Why?"

Emily looked suddenly uncomfortable. There was the sweep of a door opening, and suddenly Rory was there.

"Why?!" he said, his voice nearly booming. "Not a single member of our family had a choice. Our humanity was ripped away from us with death being our only alternative. And you, a mere child, would toss your life away, for what?! Immortality? Perfection? For her? Can you not see that she would never forgive herself for ending your life, one way or the other? Can you not see that many of us would give anything to be you, what you are, again? Have you given any thought to what you are so blithely casting aside like so much distasteful garbage!? Or are you so eager to make the biggest mistake of your life that you haven't given one wit about how she feels?!"

Emily was there, her arms encircling him, half in reassurance, half in restraint. I sat back, too stunned to respond.

His passion seemed to burn itself out.

"Why?" he said at last. "Why would you become like us? Do you even know? Do you even care? You can't unmake this mistake. Think about it."

Emily took him to their room and shut the door. I turned up the television, stared at the wall, and thought about it. And thought about it. I wasn't sure how much time passed before Emily came back out. She didn't disturb me, aside from taking over the television that I clearly wasn't watching. I started forming thoughts, putting pieces together.

Days passed. We established a routine. I would sit in the living room, eat when I was hungry, sleep when I was tired, and we shut out the light, so that time lost all meaning. We all just sat around, almost doing nothing. As I became stir crazy, they grew more and more still. At long last, I couldn't take it anymore. I turned to Rory.

"How did you change?" I asked.

He looked at me.

"Why?" he asked flatly.

"I'm trying to understand," I said. "If I knew why you were so against me becoming a vampire-"

"You'd what?" he asked. "Have a better idea how to undermine my arguments? No."

"That's not it," I said. "I want to understand why you're so against it. If I had more information, I might understand what I would be giving up better. You understand it. I don't."

Something in his expression shifted. A knowing look crossed his face.

"I see," he said. "Huh. Okay. I'll tell you my story. In this story, as in life, there is no such thing as happy endings."

He took a seat diagonal to me, in the closest section of couch to the lounge chair I was sitting in.

"I was born to the King family of Rochester, New York, in nineteen fifteen," he began. "We were a rich family, by most standards of the America of those years. While most were unclear as to their lot in life, what was expected of me was clear from my birth; I was to carry on the King name and maintain our legacy. And to that end, I lived true until the moment of my death. I lived and loved my lavished life. I saw what we had and what others did not and knew that I wanted nothing more but to stay or increase my family's holding. I took well to learning how to do so and knew that my marriage would be equally as pivotal. I knew little of what to ask for in a wife, aside from what I was taught to want. I wanted a woman who would keep my home with a steady hand, who would love her station as I loved mine, who was as committed to the same ideals I was. I cared little for such trivial things as looks and love. The only reliable thing I had ever loved was wealth, and it had done as well if not better at loving me as any member of my family had done. The only friend I had in my entire life was Vincent, a kitchen boy who was my own age, who was personable, savory enough, and knew his place so well that my parents did not begrudge our relationship. We never spent time together publicly, but towards the beginning of my adult life, I began to understand that something vital was missing from my life and that Vincent had what I lacked.

"Towards the end of my last teenaged year, I was introduced to the woman I was to call my betrothed, a lady named Rose. She was lovely beyond my wishes, from a deserving family, with good breeding and was well schooled. Our parents were interested in joining our families, as eager for the battle over who's line would eventually control the fortunate it would create in truth as they were to have the wealth and prestige our joining would bring. Our courtship was very proper and public, and I was excited to begin the life I knew I was one day destined for. But it was all for naught.

"Vincent had been married a year earlier. I visited him rarely at his home, but his little girl was a wonder to me. I had never considered children outside of an avenue to continue one's own bloodline, but seeing the little thing, wide-eyed and wondering at the world, as something truly miraculous. The love and trust she found in his arms... I was at a loss as to how to express just how profoundly I had misplaced what I wanted out of life.

"Shortly after such a visit, I was heading home, wondering how soon we could be married and how it would feel to hold my own darling son or daughter, when I inexplicably bumped into a thin group of drunkards, ringing Rose.

"I had never known that she favored drink. She had been rather reserved in all our mutual social outings, but now she was brazened, vulgar, and lewd. I knew that I couldn't in good conscious leave her in the company of such men, though I freely admit that I was more interest in my own reputation via her public displays than I was in her safety. Unfortunately, she would have none of it. She saw my insinuations and my attempt to spirit her away for exactly what they were and she would not be culled. She cursed me and spit on me, attributing me to the same sort of stifling and manipulative keeper as her father had been, refusing to be held captive by my demands. She emasculated me, cast doubt upon me in every way that I could conceive of. At length, I took her arm, deciding that I had no choice but to take her home by force. It meant my end.

"Her compatriots set themselves against me, giving themselves over to the mobs' mentality, urged on by Rose's encouragement, and in the longest moments of my human existence, bested me and beat me within the breath of my death.

"They left me in the street, and I had no doubt that I was enduring the end of my life and soon my body would give out. Katherine found me and took me from where I fell. She..."

He stopped for a long moment.

"She hurt me," he said. "She bit me, her venom leeching into me, burning through me, unmaking me, killing me, and remaking me into what I am. I became a monster."

Something about the way he spoke filled me, made me tremble.

"And I killed them, in kind," he said, his voice deepening, a vindictive and vindicated delight in him. "I found each of those murderous bastards and destroyed them with my new strength. I crushed them and broke them, carefully, drawing it out at times, as my understanding and skill at such work became artful. Though I laid them all low and saved the harlot for last, I bleed and feasted upon them none. Late, I came to Rose, dressed as the gentleman, in all the regal splendor befitting my station, all the aristocratic finery that I would have been adorned with on our wedding day, and I drove the life from her by inches, despite her father and brother standing guard over her. I may never have known the taste of human blood, but do not be mistaken; I am a fiend, doomed to the depths of hell, should there be a decent god who is at all righteous and just."

He looked me over, hard.

"Are you so sure," he asked, "so ready to be what I am? Are you willing to give up what you are, to be like me?"

I wasn't. I wasn't sure of anything. To be sure, I was scared. He might be right, despite every difference between he and I. I might lose my humanity. I knew I wasn't perfect, and in the same position, I couldn't kid myself into believing that I would be any more understanding than he was. But I had no guarantee that I would become him either. The one thing that his story proved was that the future could not be known.

"It wasn't all bad for you," I said, and he blinked at me, astonished.

I nodded to Emily.

A slowly deepening smile stretched itself across his face.

"No," he said. "Not all bad. My Emilia makes my existence bearable. God only knows where I would be without her."

"At least your not stuck with Bitchface," said Emily, navigating herself into his lap. The two were very close to the same size and sitting as they were, she seemed quite a bit larger.

"You don't understand," said Emily over Rory's chuckle, "Edwina has been very unlike herself in recent weeks. Since she fell for you, she has been much more tolerable to live with. Before that... she was less so."

I shook my head; it couldn't have been that bad.

"We joke," said Emily, "but seriously, she didn't do anything. She went through the paces of life, but she wasn't living. She was utterly hopeless, in every sense of the word. You have done so much for her, far more than I think you realize."

"Wait," I said, "what do you mean stuck with Edwina?"

"She never told you?" asked Rory.

"No, she didn't," I said.

They sort of chuckled to themselves.

"There was a time," said Rory, "that Katherine wanted a partner for Edwina, as she had found in Emanuel. She thought that maybe the two of us might be such a pairing."

I looked horrified. He was freaking gorgeous! Even I could see that. How could I ever measure up to the likes of him?

Neither seemed to notice my apoplectic fit.

"Never would have worked, thought," said Emily. "My man isn't for no one but me."

I was about to retort some agreement when one of their phones buzzed. I waited as Emily answered. She spoke oddly, her voice too low for me to hear, her lips blurring and vibrating with speed. Eventually, she nodded and handed the phone over to me. I took it.

"Hello," I said into the phone.

"I love you," Edwina nearly cried, her voice firm but with an edge of desperation that you wouldn't have been able to hear if you didn't know her as I did.

"I love you too," I said, tears pricking in my eyes. "What is going on? What's happening?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," she said. "We are all fine here. How are things going with you?"

"Fine and dandy," I said lightly, with maybe a little sarcasm. "I wouldn't mind being locked in a hotel room so much if you were here."

The idea, us alone together, hidden away, came back to me. It was more inviting than ever.

"That is our fall back plan," she said. "If something goes wrong here, I am going to get on a plane and come to you. Then we will leave, just the two of us."

The invitation redoubled and it was all I could do not to demand that we do that immediately.

"What?" asked Edwina, off the phone. "Hold on. Ben?"

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Alice wants to send you a photo," she said. "She wants to know if you recognize it."

"Okay," I said.

The phone by my ear buzzed, which made me jump. I pulled it away and looked at it. What was on the display was the image of a drawing, something that had clearly been done with vampiric precision. It was the sketch of a room, lacking detail but as proportionally correct as any photo.

"Yeah," I said, confused. "I recognize it."

"You do?" she asked, sounding surprised. "Where is it?"

"My father's home," I said, "here in Phoenix. Why?"

There was a long span of dead silence.

"Let me talk to Emily," she said.

"No," I said.

She hissed, the inhuman kind, "Let me talk to-"

"No!" I said, my voice almost shrill. "Edwina, you tell me what is going on, or so help me, I will come back there right now!"

Again, she was silent.

"She isn't in Forks anymore," she said at last.

The truth dawned on me.

"I have to call my dad," I said.

"Ben," she started.

"You don't understand," I tried not to yell. "This is my Dad. He won't be able to handle getting caught up in all this. He just won't!"

"Okay," said Edwina. "Everything is alright. Alice hasn't seen your Dad there, everything is going to be fine."

I calmed down.

"Are you alright?" she worried.

"I'm here," I said.

"You can call your dad," she said. "Tell him whatever you like. The phones we have cannot be traced by anyone who doesn't know how our encryption method works."

I sighed. I didn't know the number. I hadn't even touched my phone since Friday, and it was still in Forks. But my dad still had our old land-line. I'd leave him a message there.

"Okay," I said. "I call him as soon as I'm off the phone here."

"Good," Edwina said. "We are going to try one last attempt to capture the male, and if that doesn't work, we'll come to you. I don't like the idea of her being even that close."

I wanted her, desperately. I would have to be patient. I knew that I couldn't stay on the phone forever.

"I love you," I said. "Beyond words, beyond the telling of it. Forever. Be safe."

It sounded as though she was having trouble finding words, which couldn't be true. Maybe she was just overcome. I could understand.

"I love you," she said. "Come what will, no matter what should happen. Always. I will be very upset should you allow anything to happen to yourself."

"I won't," I said.

Again, we didn't say goodbye. There would never be goodbyes between us. Ever. I handed the phone back just long enough for Emily to finish up with Edwina. Afterward, she gave it back to me, and I dialed the number that I had had to call home since I was old enough to memorize phone numbers.

"Dad," I said. "It's me. I'm fine. I had a big fight with mom but everything is okay. I took a bus back the Phoenix, but I am fine and as soon as everything blows over, I'll go back. Please don't tell mom what I said, and if you need to get a hold of me, here is the number."

I spoke it as Emily have it to me.

"Don't worry dad," I said one last time. "Everything is fine. I'll try not to do anything so dramatic in the future. I love you. Bye."

I hung up, hoping he wouldn't flip out needlessly. I had enough to deal with without that.

Several hours passed with little news. At last, a text arrived with news from the Cullens. They had lost the male and Edwina, Alice, and Katherine were flying here. They were taking off and would be there in a few hours, just around sunset. As Emily was relaying this, her phone buzzed.

"Don't recognize it," she said. "Could be your dad."

I took it, "Hello?"

"Ben?"

It was my mother's voice.

"Mom?" I asked, standing and walking into my room, glancing at Emily and Rory who dismissed me, becoming statue like once again and turning their attention to the television.

"It's okay, Ben", she said, her tone slightly frantic as I closed my bedroom door, "it's okay. You don't need to worry about a thing. I'm fine."

I was confused, "Mom?"

She wasn't reacting to my voice at all, almost like she didn't want me to interrupt her.

"Be very quiet and very careful now," came an entirely different voice from the phone.

Or, as though my mother wouldn't get a chance to say much more.

I froze, feeling the blood drain from my face.

"That's very good," she said, her voice cultured and pleasant, with the faintest trace of an accent that I couldn't make out.

"Now," she said, "do exactly as I say. We wouldn't want anything unfortunate to happen, now would we?"

I said nothing, did nothing, realizing that I was waiting for instructions. She had my mother. I was so caught up with making sure my father was safe, I didn't dream that my mom would be at risk. How could I have been so stupid?!

"Very good," she said. "Now say, 'Mom, I'm not coming back.' Sound angry. Think of just how much harm I could do to her if I wished, think of what you would like to do to me if it was under your power."

I thought about it. I thought hard. I wanted stone skin. I wanted strength beyond this puny, mortal frame. I wanted speed and cunning and grace and deadly ability. I wanted to roar and snarl and inflict brutal bodily harm than not even a vampire could withstand. I wanted to kill her.

"Mom," I seethed, "I'm not coming back."

"Very good," she said, "now, understand me. If I were to ask you to come alone to a location of my choosing, could you?"

I thought about it.

"No," I said bitterly.

"That is too bad," she said, her voice with a slight singsong cadence then became thoughtful. "If, say, your mother's life depended on it, could you?"

I thought hard. It might be possible. We were going to meet the other Cullens when they arrived. There might be time. There might be a way.

"Alright," I said.

"Say it again," she said, pleased. "Louder."

"Alright," I said, my voice carrying.

"Again," she said, her voice resplendent with feigned courtesy. "And add 'Mom' for good measure."

"Alright, Mom!" I nearly shouted.

"When you can break away," she said, "go to your father's house. There will be additional instructions once you get there. Be quick about it. Your mother's life is in your hands."

I hung up.

Without a word, blinding tears of fury in my eyes, I walked back out into the living room and set the phone down before Emily. I said nothing, walking away. It started buzzing before I left the room.

I nearly slammed my door, flinging myself down on the bed, sobbing.

She had my mother. I had dragged her into this, without meaning to, without even the faintest idea what it would cost either of us. And, here I was, so utterly in love with Edwina, I couldn't even regret it. The thing that hurt me, the one thing that I regretted the most was that I very well might never see her again. I would never again get to say to her that I loved her. I would get to look into her eyes and look upon her as the most amazing part of my life. I would never again caress her face, crush my lips to her impervious ones. I had laid beside her one night, spent just over twenty-four hours with her as the love of my life. It wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough.

It didn't seem fair somehow. Maybe people were only allotted so much happiness in a single lifetime. All things considered, in that span, that day and a half, I couldn't imagine being happier. Though we had so little time, a lifespan's love was found there in. There was only one thing left that I could do. I would give her the best explanation I could, the only goodbye that she could have.

Taking a hotel pen and pad, I began to write.

 **Dearest and most beloved Edwina,**

 **I am so very and truly sorry. She has my mother. I didn't have a choice. It wasn't what I wanted. I wanted forever with you. It didn't seem too much to ask, but who was I to demand more after already having so much, more than some will ever get?**

I wanted to put more. I wanted to promise her that I would make sure it was quick. I wanted to tell her that I would still love her, even if I wasn't around to do so. I wanted to tell her how angry I was, how afraid, because I knew that what I was doing would mean my death. But she had my mother. I had no choice. All of this wouldn't matter. Only one thing mattered.

 **You are my one true love, the love of my life. My heart is yours, forever. I will never be gone, not when I will live on in your mind and heart. I will never stop loving you.**

 **Your Ben**

I folded the paper and stuck it in my backpack. I would be sure to leave it somewhere where she would find it. Taking my money from my bag, I stuck it in my pocket, that way I wouldn't need anything but what I had on my person to get away. After that, I tried to sleep, to dream of her one last time, until they woke me, saying it was time.


	17. Chapter 17: Snared

Sky Harbor was busy for the middle of the week, but then I realized I had no idea when an airport was normally busy.

The tentative plan was for me to join Edwina here, for us to book a ticket to New York with cash. From there, the Cullens had contacts to get me a fake ID while Edwina used one of hers to double back somewhere obscure, using cash again. If the others hadn't dealt with them by then, we would forge me a new passport, and we would leave the country. I was almost crying with how much that appealed to me.

We made it to the airport a little early, which was perfectly alright with me. I still had no idea how I was going to get away from them. Since I had had the call from the Hunter, Emily and Rory seemed to follow my every motion, very intent on me. Alice must have seen something. But we were in public now and they couldn't reveal themselves. I need some pretext to get away from them, but I had no idea what.

Luckily, or perhaps not, my decision was made for me. I was trying to get the courage to ask to go off on my own, just for a minute, when they announcement that the flight was early came across the arrivals board. I was out of time.

I dropped the bag next to them, realizing that this was a good way to sell them the idea that I was coming back.

"I need to eat," I said, which was something neither of them seemed to care enough to really understand the timing on.

"I'll go with you," said Emily, and I could tell that there wasn't any graceful way to get around this.

"Okay," I said, unhappily.

We walked towards the food court area and as we approached, I spotted it.

"Here," I said, "I need to go to the bathroom."

She looked uncomfortable, but looking around and considering, she nodded.

"I'll be right out here," she said, standing at the door as though a guard.

They were trying so hard to keep me safe. I was rather sorry to disappoint them. But I had no choice.

I moved through the restroom, to the other exit on the opposite side. It confused me a lot the last time I had been here, coming out and having no idea where I was. But now I knew, and now I knew where to go.

I ran for the front entrance, trying to move as quickly as I dared, hoping no one would stop me. I made it out front with no one intercepting me. I looked around, trying to find a cab and not seeing one. I was half way to the shuttle station, hoping to find one at the Hyatt, but then I saw it. A yellow cab that had just let someone out.

"Hey!" I said, flagging him down.

"You need a cab?" he asked, eyeing me, my lack of luggage, my youth, and my hurry.

"Yeah," I said. "I need to get to Scottsdale, and I am in a hurry."

He looked me over, "You have the money for that?"

I pulled out my cash, "Yes!"

He looked around nervously, "Okay, okay, kid! Damn. Don't be flashing your roll like that. What are you, stupid?"

I piled into the car and he turned on the meter. I gave him the specific address as we pulled away, and as we did, I realized that I had done it. I had gotten away. Alice notwithstanding, they didn't know where I was. I didn't know where I was going or what was going to happen. I had instructions waiting for me, which seemed odd. I didn't understand why he wouldn't just be waiting for me. But I had nothing left to do but wait until I got there. Until I did, I decided there was only one possible way I could spend my time.

I imagined standing at the airport, knowing she would be there. I was eager, practically bouncing on the balls of my feet, trying to see around people to find her. I would be praying for the moment to see her so hard, it would surprise me when it actually came. It would arrive, and I wouldn't be prepared for it. For her wonder, her beauty, her grace, how much that I loved her. I would run at her and she would swing herself around me, trying not to let me crash into her and injure myself, trying not to give away how amazing she truly was but likely not being able to do the best job of it in her enthusiasm, so intense that it rivaled mine. And then, kissing her and us toppling to the floor in our reunion, we would make final plans, a place to disappear together, to disappear into seclusion, obscurity, a place where we could hide, either in plain sight in the north or in solitude somewhere warm and bright under the sun. We could do whatever we wanted, for as long as we wanted, never separated, never apart. Forever.

The ride was over way too soon. We came to my father's street, night getting on in earnest. I paid the cabby, dashing to the house without a backward glance, knowing I needed to hurry. I couldn't take in a single detail but found the hide-a-key my dad need more often than not when he forgot or misplaced his key. I got inside, finding everything as I had left it. Above the phone, on the whiteboard, was a number written in a vampire's hand. Picking up the phone, I dial.

"Very good," she purred into the phone. "You did a very adequate job. Now, do exactly as I say. Erase the number."

I did.

"Now," she said, "do you know the martial arts school down the street?"

I did. It was the one that I had gone to.

"Yes," I said.

"Come there now," she said. "The front door is unlocked. Lock it behind you."

I ran. I thought I locked the front door to the house behind me, but I wasn't sure. By the time I got there, I had a stitch in my chest and had tripped three times. I was bruised and scraped, but I had made it. I pulled at the door, and it was indeed open. I came inside, and as soon as the door was closed, I locked it.

"Mom?" I called, unable to stop myself.

"Ben?" came my mother's quiet voice.

"Mom!" I yelled, coming onto the main floor, the room dark.

"It's okay, Ben," she said, her voice tinny and still quiet, her tone slightly frantic, "it's okay. You don't need to worry about a thing. I'm fine."

It was then that I realized it was the same. Exactly the same. I turned, and she was there, holding a phone. My phone. The replayed voice mail continued.

"I just want to know that you are safe, but I understand if you don't want to talk to me or return my calls. I love you, and I will never stop loving you, even if I'm not great at saying or showing it. You can come ho... back. You can come back anytime. No questions asked. I love you, Benji. That will never change."

She ended the call.

"She isn't here," I said.

"No," she said smugly. I couldn't see much of her in the defused light. I could make out the edges of her blonde hair, her vaguely darker lips, and the glint of her red eyes, darker than they had been, but it might have been a trick of the light.

"It is easier this way," she said, "don't you think? A good hunter wastes nothing. A good hunter expends the least amount of effort. A good hunter doesn't hunt, but guides the prey to her."

She began pacing, eager, but holding back.

I made a mistake. The worse and biggest mistake of my life. I was going to die, for nothing, for stupidity. I had to keep her talking, had to buy some time. Maybe, maybe they might get here in time. Maybe I would sprout wings and fly away.

"Why?" I asked. I had to keep her talking.

"'Why'?" she mocked. "Because it was too good not to! Do you know how often I get the chance to pit my wits against my own kind, especially when the prize is such a tasty smelling morsel as yourself? Not often. The last time..."

She smirked at me, "I wonder, did he tell you?"

I looked as confused as I felt, "Did who tell me what?"

She walked apace, as though lost in thought. Not in thought; in memory.

"It was nineteen twenty," she said. "I had found a member of my kind, a sedentary creature, much like yours keepers, but without the strange yellow eyes. She was working at a sanitarium, an institution for the mentally degenerative, the insane as you might call them. For fun, I followed her and found that she was keeping a pet, much like you are being kept. The pet was a patient, some little freak who thought himself a woman trap in a boy's body. It is understandable. We are the superior sex in every way. But this filth got up to all kinds, getting up into dresses and the like, spouting about visions of the future. It was no wonder his family put him away in the dark."

I was confused even more, "What are you talking about?"

She shook her head.

"He was there," she said, "in the field. He didn't leave with you, but he was there. Unlike your keepers, the old one I discovered before wasn't content to let me take her pet away. She decided to transform him into one of us. He is still playing his little games, his getups, but I knew it was him. He couldn't fool me."

I couldn't put it together, couldn't understand what she was talking about. And then, I started trying to put everything she could together, one at a time, flipping details to see if I could make them fit. At last, I got it.

"Alice?" I said. "You are talking about Alice?"

She snorted, "Is that what he is calling himself these days?"

"She-" I started.

"HE!" she snapped.

"She isn't a boy," I said, glaring. "Anyone can see that!"

"Denial," she said sadly. "I was hoping you could see past the lies to the truth. But I guess we all have to live with disappointment."

She turned towards me, again, her eyes burning into me. I couldn't seem to move, to breathe.

"You, for example," she said, "are very disappointing. This game was up way too early, way too easily. I was hoping to have a much more significant challenge here. But alas, you have failed to impress, save for your willingness to sacrifice yourself for nothing."

I stood fast, trying to stand tall, my voice still shaking.

"I am not scared of you," I said tremulously.

She was an inch before me, the dark red eyes fiercely filling my sight. I fell backwards with a yelp. Scrambling, I tried to get away. She grabbed my ankle and pulled me to one side.

"Come on," she said. "You can struggle harder than that."

She threw me, and I bumped across the mats. Looking up from where I had come to a stop, I found a number of staffs, hung in a neat row along the wall. I grabbed one.

"That's more like it," she said loudly.

I turned and swung. The staff was knocked from my hands, the impact too hard for my grip to handle. I shook my stinging hands. She grabbed me by the scruff of my shirt.

"Pathetic," she intoned, flinging me again with less ceremony than before. It hurt and I tried to get to my feet before she got to me again, but I wasn't able to. She lifted me instead, slamming me into the wall at the far end of the mats. I looked murder at her for a protracted moment, wanting desperately to be a vampire, to be able to fight back, to have a chance at winning. I looked over and saw a fire extinguisher. I grabbed it off the wall and thudded it into her her head. She rolled her eyes at me, batting it away. She tossed me to the floor again, and when my body had stopped rolling, I felt worn out, beaten and done.

"Now," she said. "Have you any last words?"

I glared at her, saying nothing.

"Oh," she said, looking apologetic almost, "I'm not going to kill you now. I am just going to hurt you so badly until you die that I think this will be the last chance you will have to speak coherently. I feel I should point out that this too, is not waste. You see, I want more than this simple death from you. I wanted a real fight, a real hunt. And now, I will have one."

She vanished, returning from somewhere off to one side, a camera in her hand, a camera that I realized had been filming this entire encounter.

"I wonder how your little Edwina will react when she sees this," she said. "She will come after me, no doubt, but I wonder, who might win if she does. The thought is almost titillating, wouldn't you say?"

"Edwina," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Don't do it. I know what you want to do when you see this but don't. It isn't worth it. I... I am already gone. There is no need for you to-"

Something came down on my hand with enough force that I felt something snap.

I screamed, louder and longer than I had ever known I could.

"What was that?" she asked.

"No!" I screamed, "Don't! I love you too much to let you do this!"

She laughed at me, "Oh she will. There is nothing you can do to stop me, and she will stop at nothing to avenge you. I have seen it before. When vampire love is lost, death is the only possible response. Hers or mine."

I had to do something, had to stop her.

"You're wrong," I said. "Edwina loves me. Loves me enough that I am not scared anymore. With her love, I am strong enough to see the true and not afraid to speak the truth of it."

I turned and looked directly into the camera.

"You think your selfish, Edwina," I said, "but you're not. You are amazing, and you can do anything when you put your mind to it. You can do this, the one thing that I ask of you. Don't come after her. Save yourself. For me."

Something in her shifted, "No!"

She slammed her foot down, and the pain redoubled, shooting up my leg, more than my body could handle. I thought I passed out for a moment, but I came back screaming once again.

"Beg her," she said. "Beg her to come here! To help you!"

"NO!" I screamed. "I won't do it! You'll- you'll have to kill me first!"

She stepped on my broken leg again, and I screamed as she slowly pressed!

"Say it!" she demanded. "Beg for her. Beg me to stop! Beg for revenge."

"Never!" I screeched. "I would rather die!"

"NOOO!" she said and slammed me against the mirrors that made up one wall.

I was bleeding. Somewhere, around all my many pains and the disorientation, I knew the feeling. The wet, the warm, splattering my face from somewhere about my hairline.

She hissed, "No. No, no, no. It's too soon. It's... It's..."

It was over. I knew it. The blood was going to be too much for her. I was just glad it would be soon. I was getting tired, and it hurt so much.

And then, an angel was there.

"Ben," she said.

There was noise that I couldn't quite follow, unimportant, for my angel was here.

I felt cool hands on my face, touching me, everywhere, finding my every injury with gentle fingers, so gentle that nothing really seemed to hurt at all.

"Oh Ben," she whispered. "No. Can you hear me? Please, Ben. Please! No, no no no, NO! NO! Please! Please!?"

I didn't understand. This couldn't be heaven. I still hurt and felt cold. But how could an angel be here if this wasn't heaven?

I opened my eyes.

"Ben!?" she said. "Oh god! Can you hear me!?"

"Hey beautiful," I said, dreamily. "You're here too? I thought you said there couldn't be vampires in heaven?"

She laughed, but it sounded remarkably like a sob.

"You're not dead," she said. "I'm here. I've got you."

"Edwina," I heard someone, Katherine I realized. "I need to stitch his head. Please moved. Are you stable enough to stitch his wrist? It isn't bad, and if you can't, I'll get to it in a minute."

"I am right here, Ben," she said. "I am not going anywhere."

Her voice was going away. Something was drowning it out. A pain, rising, undeniable pain. What was that? I wanted it to go away, but it kept coming, kept growing! WHAT WAS THAT!?

"Ow," finally got passed my lips.

"We will give you something for the pain," said Katherine. "Hold on."

"Ow!" I said with a shaking voice. "OW!"

"Ben!" said Edwina. "What is it?"

"OH GOD!" I felt myself try to squirm, which sent pain lancing through my leg. "WHAT IS THAT!? MY WRIST! WHY AM I BURNING!?"

"Katherine!" she all but screamed. "It's a bite! This isn't a cut, it's a bite!"

For one long, infinite moment, I wanted to pull my wrist away from her, to hold it to myself, to stop her from doing anything that might halt what was going on, what I knew was happening within my body at this very moment. I wanted to let it flow, let it happen. But then that moment was over, and the pain won out.

"Make it stop!" I demanded. "Please! Help me!"

"You will have to drain it from the wound," said Katherine. "I can't do it. I have never started feeding on a human. I don't want to risk not being able to stop once I started. If there is anyone who can do this, Edwina, it is you."

"I..." she stammered. "I can't. I could kill him."

"It is up to you," said Katherine.

I found her face with my eyes.

"I love you!" I all but screamed. I didn't know when I was going to get the chance to say it again.

"Hold on, Ben," she said. "Hold on."

I felt her lips on my wrist, the cold piercing the flames. And slowly, but surely, the pain shrank, it dwindled, and finally, the pains of my injuries were all that I felt.

I began to drift away.

"Tape," I whispered.

"What?" asked Edwina. "What tape?"

"She recorded..." I said.

"It's okay, Ben," she said. "It is okay. We have this in hand. We will take care of you, of everything. Don't worry. Sleep."

"I don't want to go away," I mumbled.

She cradled me to her gently, "You're not going anywhere."

It was all too much. I drifted way. But the moment before I went under, I couldn't help but feel like something was wrong, more wrong than it ever had been before.


	18. Chapter 18: The End

I had woken up in the hospital before. I knew what it was like. I had never woken up this stiff or this uncomfortable before. I knew the feeling of being pumped to the gills of painkillers. I knew what it felt like to feel stiff because my body knew moving would hurt. I knew what a slight concussion felt like. I knew what a fresh cast felt like. I knew what stitches felt like. This was the first time I was experiencing all at once.

"Hmm," I breathed, making the slightest sound I could, not ready to open my eyes yet.

"Oh thank goodness," someone said.

"Dad?" I exhaled.

"I'm here, Buddy," he said, and I felt a light hand on my forehead.

"What happened?" I asked, not thinking about it, just wanting him to reassure me that everything was okay.

"Apparently," he said, his voice full of spite, "there was a car accident."

"Accident?" I asked.

"The doc said you would be out of it," he said. "Head injury and all. Apparently, you were down the street from the house when you go hit by a car. When the ambulance got there, you were already stitched up. The car was rented to a doctor in town at some convention. He reported the car stolen and claimed to have nothing to do with it, the lying bastard."

"Dad," I whispered, opening my eyes and trying to rein him in.

"What?" he said acidly, "He hit you with his car! You almost-"

He stopped and took a deep breath, "You're okay, thank goodness. But I wouldn't mind giving that guy a piece or two of my mind. Seriously, kid, what happened? What is going on?"

I frowned, not sure what the story was anymore.

"I had a fight with mom," I said, looking away.

"I know," he said. "I got your message, and hers. She was upset, but she is okay. I am worried about you. I don't like you taking undisclosed trips across the country and getting yourself run down by a car."

I winced, "I like it even less."

He shook his head, "Okay, yeah. I see your point. Look, I just want to make sure that this is never going to happen again. Okay?"

I went to breathe in, but my ribs ached and I gasped.

"What?" he said, his hands floating over me, as though he could whisk the pain away with a touch.

"Ribs," I said. "I didn't want this to happen. I wouldn't have gone if I had known."

I suddenly realized just how true that was.

"Where's Edwina?" I asked.

He blinked at me, "Your girlfriend? Forks, I thought. What makes you think she's here?"

No, she wouldn't be. Too hard to explain. But she would be nearby, I knew.

"Nothing," I said. "Must of have been a dream or something."

"Look," she said. "I am going to go call Felicia, let her know everything is okay. Guess what! We settled! When I get back, I'll tell you all about it. You're going to love Jacksonville! I will be right back, don't move."

He walked out of the room, closing the door as he did, revealing who was standing behind it.

Edwina wore hospital scrubs, her hair pulled back and held messily in place by a pen. She looked rumpled and tired, her face utterly blank. If it wasn't for her beauty and my knowledge of her, I would have thought she was any other of the myriad nurses I had seen through the years.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice utterly inflectionless.

"Edwina?" I asked.

She came forward, but stopped at the foot of my bed, reading my chart.

"Everything looks good," she said. "You are going to be fine."

I started to feel uneasy.

"That's great," I said. Her eyes wouldn't meet mine.

"What is it?" I asked.

"We're leaving," she said.

I blinked at her, "Already? I just woke up. Shouldn't I rest more?"

She still didn't look at me.

"However well rested you are won't make this any easier for you to hear," she said, "but you need to hear it."

I felt something shift under me, as though the earth had just quaked.

"I don't understand," I said.

"We're leaving," she said, exactly the same, like before, a repeated recording.

That time I got it.

"You don't mean me," I said.

"No," she said emotionlessly.

"Okay," I said, trying to understand why she was so far away, why she was saying it like this.

"I'll see you when I get back to Forks," I added.

She was still as marble. Suddenly, so was I.

"We aren't going back to Forks," she said.

I felt like I didn't have lungs. I felt like I had no bones, no heart, no brain. I simply had lips and they worked all on their own.

"When will I see you again?" I asked. One by one, the solid foundations of my life crumbled away. I needed know if I still had this one at least. Let me not lose it all, not everything, not after all that had happened.

"You won't," she said.

…

…

…

"I see."

I didn't remember speaking the words. I just remembered hearing them in my memory, in my voice.

"I was wrong," she said, monotonously. "I wanted to love you. I wanted it so bad, I convinced myself, believed that I was possible. I told you everything I thought I wanted to say, confessed every affection that I wished I could commit to. But it amounted to a dream, a wishful desire that can never be. What we wanted will not come to pass. We must go back to the way things were. We must not see each other ever again."

"No," I said. "I don't believe that. Or you. What we have is real, and nothing can get in the way of that."

"You are a child," she said, with perfect adamance. "You are naive and have no idea of what you speak. I said what I said and did what I did out of arrogance, out of a delusion that I didn't really believe. I can't love you."

I was sure that my eyes worked, but I was having trouble seeing the world around me. I couldn't make them blink or focus. I couldn't make the tears stop.

"I don't..." I said. "But, you said-"

"That I loved you?" she asked, her words alien, as though spoke by someone I had never known. No connection was there. I was talking to a stranger. Where was Edwina?

"I am a good actress," she said. "I need to be. It is all part of the life I need to lead, to blend in. We have to play our little roles, to get what we want, what we need. I wanted your adoration, your pleasant affections. But in the end, I was just being selfish. I played a part. But I am not what you saw. I am not a girl. I am not human. I won't pretend anymore. I can't. There is only one course left. I am leaving. What else is there? You will never see me again."

I couldn't breathe. I thought I knew what dying felt like. I thought I knew what pain was.

I was wrong.

She looked in my eyes, and they were not the eyes I remembered. They were darker, inanimate, unfeeling. They were the sort of eyes you could believe had no life behind them. They were dead, vampire eyes.

"Goodbye," she said.

Dad opened the door. He glanced at the supposed nurse, who replaced my chart, and turning walking away, giving him an absent nod.

"Cute nurses around here," she said, then he got a good look at me.

"Ben?" he asked. "What is it?"

"I want to go home," I said.

He looked positively heartbroken.

"I know, Buddy," he said. "I know. We will get you out of here just as soon as we can. And you are going to love Jacksonville-"

"No," I said. "Forks. I want to go back to Forks."

"But..." Dad looked more confused than hurt, but that too.

"Why?" he asked, as confused won out.

I grimaced, "It is where I need to be."

"But-" he started.

"No!" I screamed, wincing at the flashes of pain that wrecked me. "I am going home, to Forks!"

"Okay," he said, trying to hold me down without touching me. "Okay, easy. You must really love this girl."

"It doesn't matter," I said. "She won't be there."

He looked at me, "What?"

"She's gone," I said. "I don't think she is coming back."

"But then why-" he started again.

"No!" I said abruptly. "Just... no. I am going home."

Dad didn't argue. I didn't care if it hurt him. I didn't bother noticing. My parents wanted to sue the doctor, but no evidence that he had be behind the wheel when the car hit me was ever found. And yet, all my medical bills were paid, in cash, by persons unknown to anyone but me. I recuperated three days in the hospital after I woke up. Then, I flew home.

I stayed in my room. My school work was sent home to me, and I did it with abandon, trying to find something to distract myself. I knew that it was only a matter of time before I couldn't stay here anymore. I would have to go back to school, to the same halls, the same places where... but I just couldn't face it yet. All I could stand was to lie in bed.

Finally, one Saturday afternoon, I was doing just that, with only a pair of sweats on, the only pants I had that could stretch around my cast, the cast on my hand lying on my chest, staring at the wall when there was a knock at my door. I didn't respond, as per usual. The door opened.

"I am checking to make sure you at least have pants on before I open my eyes," said not my mother's voice.

"Good," said the voice. "We have pants. Pants are good. You awake over there? It is hard to sleep with your eyes open. Or with me talking. I get that."

She took the chair that my mom used, one that was somewhat in my field of vision. Her reddish skin was a little dark for this time of year, but I guess that I was getting close to summer outside, in places I never saw anymore. Her hair was tied back, and she wasn't quite so beanpole like anymore.

"Hey," she said as my eyes met hers for a moment. "There he is. Hi."

I went back to the wall.

"Look," she said. "I don't really want to be here, but I think our moms are being all conspiratorial or whatever. They want me to come over here and be all friendly like. I was against it at first, but then I get to see a cute shirtless guy and now I don't mind so much."

I almost thoughtlessly pulled my sheet over my chest.

"Aw," she said. "I could have worked with that. I had like three, maybe four good jokes lined up. Objectifying men, feminazi quips, and witty banter. It would have been beautiful. Now, I just got work with the smell."

"Why are you here?" I asked, looking at her.

She smiled at me. It hurt. It hurt bad. I think I might have made a sound, pulling the sheet tighter to me.

"Hey," she said, scooting closer. "No, its okay. Look, I am sorry for the joking bit. Too soon. Got it. But, look, you're not alone. I know that doesn't mean much to you right now. But, really. Just, remember that. It is easy to forget sometimes."

"Why are you here?" I asked, a bit more fiercely.

She nodded, "Yeah, it's like that, huh?"

I looked at her, my eyes tightening.

"I got like you," she said. "When my dad died. It hurt. It hurt so deep and so long, I didn't think I was ever going to get over it. Whenever anyone came in, people who could help, people who knew what the hell they were talking about, and told me everything was going to be okay, I wouldn't listen. What did they know about me? What did they know about pain? They didn't understand! It was never going to get better. I was never going to be happy again. But, here's the thing. They were right."

"I'm not-" I started.

"No, no, no," she said. "I am not going to tell you what to do. That's not it at all. If you want to be sad and pissed and everything, go right on ahead. You have every right. You have every reason. You can hold on to that as long as you need to. And, when you are ready, you can put it down too. It's your life. You get to live it however you want to. If you ever want to talk about... anything, I am here. You might be the only one here, in this room, but you aren't ever alone."

I looked at her, and for the first time since that hospital room, I started to cry. She didn't touch me. She didn't say anything. And I didn't make her leave. She just sat there with me, and I just cried. But it didn't make any difference. I couldn't get better. Ever. If I did, that made... _her_ right. And she wasn't.

"Okay," she said when I had quieted and had been staring at the wall for like ten minutes solid. "I am going to get going."

"I-" I said, as she started to leave.

"Thanks," I said, looking at the wall again.

"Sure, sure," she said.

She walked out and closed the door.

Stalemate. That is what it was. I couldn't move forward, couldn't go back, couldn't move at all. I had nothing I could do, no where I wanted to be. I didn't want for anything but distractions, repetition, expectations that were easy to fulfill. No surprises, nothing that could risk hurting me. I would find my way out into the world again, by inches, but I was never going to be alright again. I would find new patterns, new methods of living. There was only one thing I knew for certain.

I wasn't going to give up without a fight. Jose was wrong. I was never going to let this go.

When you said forever, some of us meant it...


End file.
